Reparo
by little-starling
Summary: When Harry finds himself at the black gates of Hogwarts two weeks into his summer holiday, no one is more surprised than Harry himself. AU. Dumbledore/Harry mentor fic. Angst.
1. Chapter 1

Reparo

Rated: PG13

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me!

Authors Note: Well, here it is, my very first HP fanfic. I've always loved reading Harry/Dumbledore hurt/comfort fics and so thought I'd have a go writing one myself. I would absolutely love to know what everyone thinks of this. I'm a self-confessed review addict and am holding the second chapter hostage until I get some! Honestly, I see no point continuing if ppl think its crap, lol, so let me know either way. Please. x

Harry Potter

It was only when Harry stood just inside the imposing black iron gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that he felt the overwhelming sense of apprehension and disbelief. How had he ended up here, in the dead of night, soaked through to his skin, two weeks into his summer holiday? To him the castle had always been a wondrous and awe inspiring sight, a monument to the very magic preformed within its walls. To him it brought forth feelings of belonging and safety, two senses he had never experienced before his eleventh birthday and his discovery of his place in the world. Now, standing at the edge of its boundary, the sight it presented was more ominous than wondrous. Shrouded in darkness, its silhouette cut a frightening outline against the deep black-blue of the cloudless sky. The little light there was from the waxing moon highlighted the rain soaked gothic architecture in points and sharp lines, further adding to its seemingly dark presence. Harry suppressed another bone shaking shiver, but couldn't quite stop the tremors that ran though his chilled limbs.

It had seemed so important for him to make his way here only an hour ago. In the grip of panic, his frenzied mind had brought only one location to the forefront. One place he had always associated with feelings of warmth and safety. One place he truly belonged. When his uncles hand had connected solidly with his jaw, when his foot had buried itself against his ribs, when his aunts gaze had caught his own and shown only hatred and disgust, he had grabbed his wand and jacket and fled. He remembered running through the sheets of rain and bitterly cold breeze in no particular direction, his ribs protesting every heavy footfall with a hot rush of flame. He had ran for what seemed like hours, but in reality had probably been half an hour. He had ran until he hadn't immediately recognised the surrounding buildings and streets. And then he had stopped running when he realised that no-one was chasing him. Why would they? He had stood in the rain at the side of an unknown street, his breath coming in pants and hiccups, his body protesting adamantly, his wand griped firmly between frozen fingers and realised his situation through a hazy adrenalin filled mind.

His sense of panic was dulled however when he remembered his reason for being there in the first place. It had been two weeks since the death of his godfather, two weeks since his possession by Voldermort and his resulting conversation with Dumbledore. When he had returned to his relatives following the end of term it had been to the normal frosty reception and he had worked hard to stay out of their way. The numbness he had felt though ever since leaving the school had, unfortunately, began to ebb away. In its place was a pain that even with everything he had been through, he had never experienced. It grew daily, its power strengthened by the images of Sirius's face, his words on family and home, and the final flutter of the veil as it swallowed his godfathers body. Harry had fought against the swell of emotion constantly, afraid to the let it consume him for fear of never coming back. And so he had occupied his time with study, with exercise, with running, with anything and everything that could keep the monster within in its cage.

He was doing ok. Until today.

While rummaging in his trunk for spare parchment his fingers had brushed against the cool smoothness of glass. Without looking, his heart had began to flutter against his ribcage and his stomach began to churn. The monster was awake. Slowly, without taking his fingers from the glass, his other hand had reached in and peeled back the layers of clothes and knick-knacks that blocked his view. When the first glint of light sparkled from the shard his throat had constricted painfully. He had felt his body begin shaking almost violently. A cold sweat had washed over his back and he had squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as possible. It didn't stop the monster though. With a wail he had grasped the edge of the trunk with numb fingers and had flipped the heavy wood on its side, the crash of books and shoes loud in the small almost empty room. Bent over double, gasping for breath, waiting for the monster to show itself in full, he hadn't heard the bedroom door open, nor had he heard the lumbering footsteps of his uncle as he entered the small space. If he had not been concentrating so hard on his intake of much needed air he might have noticed the purple blotches of colour high on his uncle's cheeks or the way his hands curled into chunky fists at his sides. As it was, an explosion of pain from the left side of his face had been all the warning he had received. The pain may have been severe, but he remembered thinking during the beating that it wasn't a thing compared to what he had been about to experience.

Standing on the street, reliving the past half hour, he had felt the churning of emotion lick the surface of his conscience. The monster had indeed been awakened, and it had no intension of going back to sleep. There was a pain in his chest that went much deeper than any of the physical injurious he was sporting. He needed something to help, someone to help, somewhere to go. Before he realised what exactly he was doing his right hand had raised his wand and an instant later the knight bus exploded into being in a flash of blurry colour and sound. Stan Turnpike appeared at the rear entrance, his cocky smile faltering as he took in the sight before him. Harry's voice had shook and sounded younger than it should have as he'd asked if he could be taken to Hogsmede. Stan had announced the fare and seeing Harry's face had written a wizarding i.o.u and helped him on board. The ride had been a short one, as they always were regardless of destination, and thankfully Stan had kept conversation to a minimum, only handing him a slightly dusty handkerchief and pointing to his lip.

When Harry had been deposited in Hogsmede he had immediately set off on the muddy path to Hogwarts, his eyes struggling to make out the route in the little light offered by the occasional lantern and the moon overhead. When finally he had reached the great iron gates, and caught sight of the castle ahead the relief had almost pushed his emotions to breaking point again and he had choked down a sob with effort. Standing at the gates he had hoarsely whispered a plea for entrance, unsure of whether or not he would be permitted entry at this point in the year. But he remembered Dumbledore's words in Hagrids hut about there always being a place for students who needed help and repeated it inside his head like a mantra, almost missing the click and groan of metal concentrating as he was. Looking to his right he found the source of the noise. A portion of the gate had swung open, almost like a small gate in its own right, and Harry had scrambled forward and passed through the entryway onto the grounds.

The gate had closed immediately and here he now stood. Muddy, bloody and emotionally wrought. For the first time Harry noticed light at the castle that wasn't due to the moon. Lanterns lit the entryway ahead, and several warm lights outlined windows across the castle, signalling life within its walls. He briefly wondered who would be there. Would Dumbledore be resident within the castle during holidays? Harry felt his emotions stir within his chest once more. He both hated the thought of seeing him again after the incident in his office and the resulting conversation, and longed to see him with desperation he was unused to. But what reception would greet him here? Would there be anger for not staying with the Dursleys? Disappointment for leaving the safety of Privet Drive and returning to Scotland unaccompanied? The thought of such a welcome had Harry questioning his reasons for coming here in the first place. He shuffled forward slightly, his feet freezing cold and limbs stiff from exposure. He made his way slowly uphill, his body protesting movement but not as violently as before. As he neared the entrance courtyard he paused, his heartbeat sounding loud in his ears despite the steady drum of rain around him. Without over thinking it he cut to his left and made his way as quickly as he could towards the Quiddich Pitch, his numb feet stumbling across wet grass and loose stones. The pitch, like the rest of the castle, wasn't lit, but the sheer expanse of it caught what light was available and he could easily make out the gleam of the hoops towering overhead and the stands surrounding the grass below.

Making his way to the nearest stand entryway he shoved his wand into his back pocket and used both hands to navigate his way to the top of the steep staircase. Finally reaching the open hatch at the top he emerged into the rain and walked carefully along the front of the benches and sat down, somewhat stiffly, at the end of the first bleacher. Wrapping his coat tighter around him he looked out across the pitch and replayed matches and catches in his mind.

Albus Dumbledore

It was a curious mix of relief and melancholy that often manifested a few weeks into the summer term. Although he appreciated the quiet of the castle and the chance to relax and catch-up with work, both within the school and at the orders headquarters, it was always, even after so many years, an uneasy relaxation. Minerva had once compared him to a worried mother, fretting over her children's absence. And he supposed she may have had a point, although he would never admit such a thing to his deputy. He did worry. At least at the school the children were accounted for and well protected, both by himself and his fellow professors and of course by the castle herself. The wards that surrounded the school and her grounds were ancient and powerful, so much so that Tom Riddle himself would have a shock if he were to be foolish enough to try to breach them. But no such protection could be assured at the family homes of the thousand or so children currently residing at home. And in the dark days of late, Albus felt justified in his concern more than ever. His only solace was that in the past two weeks, death eater activity had been at the lowest in months. Almost non-existent in fact. Albus could only presume that Voldermort's failed possession of Harry had in some way injured him, forcing him to take the time to lick his wounds and re-evaluate him plans.

Albus rose from his place at his desk and turned to face the blackened windows. His back protested from sitting in the one position for too long with a series of pops and cracks and he took a moment to stretch his aging muscles whilst looking out at the wild Scottish weather. He did not envy anyone out at such an hour on a night such as this. He took off his half moon spectacles and rubbed his eyes, a sigh finding its way from the depths of his lungs to his lips, its heat causing condensation to form on the mottled glass of the window. Harry Potter. The boy had barely been on the planet, a mere 15 years, and yet Albus felt that he himself had aged twice that in the time he had known him. Albus closed his eyes and instantly an image of Harry's face flashed in the darkness, his expression one of rage and grief, his body shaking with the force of it. Harry had known both of those emotions in his past, in fact had experienced them on more than one occasion. But it had been painfully obvious to him that he had never had someone with whom he could lean on, someone who could allow him the time and means to vent his emotions. Someone to be both a shoulder to cry on and a firm guiding hand. Harry, in short, had never had a parent. And on that night, after months of whispers, rumours and cruel punishments, after losing his godfather, after facing Lord Voldermort yet again, he had finally snapped. He had turned the overwhelming emotion into energy and had proceeded to destroy his office. He had yelled at him and fought the urge to raise his wand against him. In fact he had done nothing surprising at all. Except for one thing. Harry had not shed a tear. Not once during his explosion had his body leaked his pain from his system in torrents of tears, not once during the painful, revealing conversation afterwards had his eyes filled. And in the day that followed, his last day at the school, he had seemed almost clinically detached from himself and his emotions. He showed neither grief nor anger, self-pity nor determination, and that, that was what was keeping Albus from his bed this night.

What had he been thinking sending Harry to the Dursley's in such a state?

It was a question he had asked himself on many occasions, and yet the answer was always the same. To protect him. Whatever pain, whatever emotional distress Harry was experiencing at this moment was nothing, he knew, to what he would go through if Tom were to get his snake-like hands on him. Not for the first time Albus silently cursed the powers that be for Harry's lot in life.

Turning from the window Albus gazed sadly at the objects whirring and smoking on shelves and tables across his office. Most had been repaired by the skilful hands of the Hogwarts Elves, some by a powerful reparo from his own wand, others had been beyond repair and they're pieces were lying in several boxes stored in his private study. If only young wizards were as easy to fix, Albus mused. Walking back to his seat, he sat and picked up his quill. This one was shocking pink in colour, with an azure coloured nib. He twirled it between two fingers, contemplating his choices and decisions these past few years and wondering if he had focussed too much on what choices were easy rather than what choices were right. Would Harry be better off here with him, ministry be damned? What kind of hero would be wizarding world be left with if Harry completely self-destructed? Could he play the role Harry so desperately needed, even if he didn't realise it? Would he be given the chance?

A completely unexpected and surprising ripple through the wards interrupted his inner musings. As the wards were tuned to his own magical signature, as Hogwarts Headmaster, any change or alert they sent caused his own magical aura to shift, alerting him. He rose swiftly and made his way around the desk, careful not to jostle Fawkes' perch, and reached a hand out to touch the stonewall below the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. Almost instantly the magical current of Hogwarts directed itself to his touch, the flow of multi-layered magic rippling along his own like adjoining streams. There was no danger, that much he could sense, but something, or more likely someone had gained entry to the grounds. He was not overly worried on the safety of the castle and its remaining inhabitants; Hogwarts would not have allowed anyone with dangerous or dark intentions to cross her borders. The only reason the castle would have granted entry would be if someone were hurt or injured. Taking his hand from the stone he picked up his discarded outer robe and exited the room.

Harry Potter

The rain had slowed and turned to drizzle in the ten minutes he had sat on the wet wooden bench. Pulling the edge of his jacket cuff over his hand he wiped it across his nose, not particularly caring what state his jacket was left in or how disgusting the motion was. At long last the monster within had settled down and the pain in his chest had dwindled leaving only exhaustion. He felt bone weary, as though he had just returned from an epic battle on distant lands, his body bruised and battered. The pain may have disappeared from his chest but it had left behind a thumping headache, and he could still feel the ache in his ribs from earlier. He was convinced though that all of his hurts had been somewhat dampened by the cold that had now sunk into his very bones. Harry wasn't sure he would ever be warm again.

In fact Harry was sure that the bitterly cold wind, that gained momentum across the expanse of the Quiddich pitch before hitting the stands, had somehow successfully slowed his brain. All of the panic and desperation he had felt not an hour ago had fizzled away to nothing, in fact, he was convinced that all of his emotions had been frozen mid-feeling, leaving only a hollowness and tiredness behind. He welcomed the numbing sensation. If he had known that all he had to do was half freeze himself to death to quieten the monster he would have slept in front of the freezer at the dursley's every night of the past two weeks. A bubble of hysterical laughter swelled in his chest as he imagined himself blue, but like the rest of his emotions, quickly disbanded.

A sound, above the whistle of the wind and the gentle patter of rain, caught his attention for the first time. His white-blue fingers tightened painfully around the wand he still held in his right hand and he turned a stiff neck in the direction of the entryway hatch. His heart, which had fallen in a slow sluggish rhythm, hop skipped and jumped into a quicker beat. Harry considered his options as he stood and realised there wasn't many. It was now, faced with an unknown opponent, that he began to realise how hasty his departure had been. A scuffle from the stairway turned into definite footfalls and Harry forced himself to slow his breathing. He wouldn't be able to fight off any attack if he was hyperventilating when they sprung. He raised his wand in the direction of the only entrance and exit from the stand as the footsteps came nearer, his heart jumping almost painfully against his chest.

When Albus Dumbledore emerged from the blackness, several things happened at the one time. Harry's wand slipped from lax fingers to drop onto the wooden decking almost soundlessly. His legs wobbled a little and he forced himself to sit back on the damp again seat before he fell flat on his face, and his heart which moments ago had been trying to escape the confines of his ribcage, had settled into a too fast double beat, making him slightly dizzy from the sudden rush of blood.

"Harry?"

The gravely sound of Dumbledore's voice seemed to call to the monster within, and Harry became alarmed when he felt his throat begin to ache and his chest begin to throb as they had done earlier. A gasp left his mouth as he fought to swallow the monster, his eyes never leaving his headmasters. The Professor looked concerned as he slowly walked towards him, his crimson robe becoming wet as the silver edged trim trailed across the puddled wood. Harry felt frozen to the spot, unable to form words or take his eyes from the intense gaze levelled at him. When he was close enough, Dumbledore reached a hand towards him, his fingers trailing across his rain flattened hair down past his ear to his shoulder.

"Harry?"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, his breath now coming in pants and gasps, and willed the monster to disappear. Dumbledore's voice was soft and gentle when he spoke, his touch feather light, and Harry briefly wondered if the man viewed him as a wounded animal, or a dangerous weapon. Without Harry realising it, Dumbledore's hand had found his own smaller one and squeezed it.

"Harry your frozen. Come, lets get you heated up hmmm?"

Dumbledore stood and pulled Harry's hand a little. Harry stood shakily, his breath still rough against his sore throat and found himself gripping the older mans warm hand almost painfully. Dumbledore did not complain though, only gripped his hand harder in return and pulled him towards the hatch, stooping to retrieve Harry's wand on the way. Harry squinted slightly in the light cast from Dumbledore's wand as he negotiated the stairs leading to the pitch. His legs still wobbled slightly and there was a few times when his numb feet caught the edge of a stair and he had counted on Dumbledore's arm, which had found its way around his shoulders, to set him right.

Their pace was slow as they made they're way towards the entrance courtyard, and Harry's breathing was almost back to normal by the time they had reached the massive main doors of Hogwarts. Without touching them, the doors opened before them, and the gust of warm air that hit Harry as they passed the threshold had him shivering in earnest. Dumbledore hadn't spoken on their trek from the quiddich pitch and he had yet to remove his arm from across Harry's shoulders. Harry found himself leaning slightly on the comfortable bulk of the headmaster and found his feet beginning to scuff on nearly every step.

"Almost there Harry"

Harry nodded against the warm fabric of the robe pressed against his cheek, his worsening weariness negating the use of his vocal chords. Before he knew it they were riding the revolving staircase leading to the Headmasters office, and Harry found it strange that he barely remembered getting there. The staircase slowed and eventually stopped, leaving them facing the doorway leading to Dumbledore's office. Harry felt a stirring of anxiety at the prospect of entering this office again, and when he closed his eyes to compose himself, saw flickering images in the darkness of his last visit here. Dumbledore had not moved to enter the office Harry belatedly noticed, but rather had stayed standing at the top of the stairwell, his arm pulling Harry firmly against his side, his other hand stroking the wet clumps of hair atop his head. When he heard the raspy voice from above his head, he visibly relaxed, his shaking, which he hadn't noticed, slowing to gentle tremors.

"Harry, lets get inside hmm? I assure you there is nothing within my office to worry about."

Rather than reply, Harry shuffled forward, and felt Dumbledore do the same, his hand reaching out to push the door.

Next: Dumbledore's P.O.V. Harry and Dumbledore have a long chat.

A review would be lovely.


	2. Chapter 2

Reparo 

Rated: PG13

Spoilers: Some events from OOTP. Nothing beyond that.

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me!

Authors Note: I realise I have switched narratives in this chapter; so sorry if that puts anyone off. I would like to give a huge heartfelt thank-you to those of you who reviewed. I realise that was playing up a bit and many ppl could not post a review, so a very special thank-you to those who emailed me instead. I had warm fuzzy feelings that you went to such effort. Umm, I think I should say that when I have been writing Dumbledore, or reading about him for that matter, I have always pictured Richard Harris' version. Nothing against Michael Gambon but I have always preferred the softer Dumbledore to the harsher one portrayed by Gambon. Not that its really relevant but thought I would share. Anyway, hope you enjoy this. Again, I would love to know what ppl think so either a review or an email would be very much appreciated.

Last time on Reparo 

_Harry felt a stirring of anxiety at the prospect of entering this office again, and when he closed his eyes to compose himself, saw flickering images in the darkness of his last visit here. Dumbledore had not moved to enter the office Harry belatedly noticed, but rather had stayed standing at the top of the stairwell, his arm pulling Harry firmly against his side, his other hand stroking the wet clumps of hair atop his head. When he heard the raspy voice from above his head, he visibly relaxed, his shaking, which he hadn't noticed, slowing to gentle tremors._

"_Harry, lets get inside hmm? I assure you there is nothing within my office to worry about."_

_Rather than reply, Harry shuffled forward, and felt Dumbledore do the same, his hand reaching out the push the door. _

Dumbledore's P.O.V

I close the door behind us, my eyes never leaving the boy standing shivering beside me. He looks frightened and my heart clenches reflexively in response. As I watch quietly he looks hesitantly around the office, his eyes no doubt taking in the restored magical instruments and ornaments and the repaired wooden furniture. He has yet to speak but I can sense the precarious grip he has on his emotions and I am more than happy to wait for him. I close my eyes for the briefest of moments. He is here. Safe.

When I open them, Harry is looking at me. His eyes expressing that which he cannot say out loud, his posture defensive and body trembling. I notice the darkening patch of skin on his left cheek, the smear of blood below his lip and my magic stirs within me. I take a step forward.

"Harry, did someone hurt you?"

I make sure my voice is soft and non-threatening despite the urge to growl. Harry looks for all the world like an owl caught in wand light. His eyes widen slightly, his breathing, which thankfully had calmed somewhat since they had entered the comfortable warm office, quickened slightly and a hand slowly moves to rest against his side. I nod my head slowly, showing that I understand his hesitance to confide in me and move further towards him. I am thankful to the gods when he does not back away. I clear my throat and lay a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. The boys too thin.

First things first.

"Lets get you cleaned up Harry. And into some warm clothes. Madame Pomphrey would have my beard if you ended up with wizard flu while under my care. Come."

I move forward, my arm once again finding its way across the boys shoulders, encouraging him to lean against me. His voice stops me short.

"Sir, I'm sorry…"

His voice trembles almost as much as his body and his eyes behind his glasses are wide with a swirling array of emotions. Fear, anger, hurt, need. He is so very close to loosing what grip he has on this tidal wave of emotion and I do not want to do this here. Now. I nod my head to indicate that I've heard what he has said but I don't comment. Instead I double my efforts to get him moving, my arm firm across his back as I propel him past my desk, up the stairs and down the corridor to my own rooms. I mutter the password in front of the portrait of Sir Nicholas Barnbarry and it opens wide, allowing us entry. I move us towards the couch in the sitting room, and encourage Harry to sit with a gesture, with another I light the fire in front of us.

"I'll be right back Harry. Just relax."

I move swiftly towards the door leading to my bedchambers and push the heavy oak wide. I do not close it behind me, wanting to keep an ear out for Harry, and quickly move towards the antique drawers at the end of my bed. After rummaging I find a pair of deep crimson pyjamas, a pair of woollen night socks and a spare blanket. Next I open the warded cabinet beneath the huge arched window and retrieve pain numbing potion, dreamless sleep and a calming draught. Before I close the door I reach in and remove a bruising balm too. I have a horrible suspicion I may have need of it. Wrapping the potions in the pyjama top I take the bundle and walk swiftly back to the sitting room, my eyes immediately focussing on Harry who appears not to have shifted since I left. He looks exhausted. He looks younger than his actual age I cant help but notice.

Walking back to the couch I lay the blanket, socks and pyjama top at the end and move to stand in front of Harry. His eyes have been following me and now he strains his neck to keep me in sight. I smile encouragingly at him and hold out a hand, both relieved and concerned when his own grubby one instantly rises to grasp it. I help him to his feet and lead him in the opposite direction of my bedchamber, entering through the door directly facing it.

"Why don't you get out of those wet clothes Harry, and put these on. You can have a quick wash in the tub and we'll see to a proper bath in the morning hmm?"

I hand him the pyjama bottoms and turn my back, my hands already reaching for the many faucets on the bronze and porcelain bath. I watch the steam rise as the water noisily gathers at the bottom, and try to hear over the top of it the slight scuffle of Harry getting changed.

"What will I do with these sir?"

I spin at the sound of his voice, my eyebrows no doubt near my hairline. He is standing clutching his wet and dirty clothes to his chest, the whiteness of his bare skin highlighted by the crimson red of the too long pyjama bottoms. I allow a smile to form on my face and step forward, my hands grasping the wet clothing from his clutches. I notice a hesitation when I attempt to pull them away, but only for an instant, and then the slight resistance disappears and I am holding his soppy garments.

"We'll get Wilspy to take care of thes…"

My voice lodges in my throat as I catch sight of the purple and red marring the left side of his clearly identifiable ribcage. I find myself unable to tear my eyes from the stain of colour on his otherwise flawless skin, the reds and purples looking to have been painted on by the hand of an artist. My temper rises, my magical core swirling inside me like the beginnings of a tornado. When I at last raise my eyes to look at Harry my temper evaporates and my magical core settles. The boy looked on the verge of fleeing and I curse myself for having so little restraint.

"Harry, Harry my boy it's ok. I'm not angry with you. I'm sorry if I frightened you, it was not my intention. Lets get you cleaned up and settled in for the night. We have all the time in the world dear boy."

At least he no longer looked like he would sprint for the door any second. I exhale a silent stream of air and test the water in the bath. Not too hot, not too cool. I dry my hand on one of the stack of fluffy towels lying on the chest resting beside the tub and turn back to Harry.

"I'll be right outside if you need anything. There are various cleaning products and potions at the far side of the bath, feel free to use anything you like. A quick wash Harry, you'll have a chance of a proper bath tomorrow if you so wish."

He nods his head and watches me as I leave. I softly close the door behind me and stand for a minute, listening for any signs of distress. I hear the slight splash of him entering the water and finally close my eyes. My throat constricts painfully for a moment and I breathe a lungful of air, letting it out slowly. When I feel I have full control of my emotions I walk over the couch and drop my armful of clothes at my feet before reaching for and carefully unravelling the pyjama top, revealing the various bottles lying within its folds. I arrange the potions on the side table and cast non-verbal warming charms on the blanket and socks. It was something my mother had done for me as a child when I had been poorly and I could remember the comfort it had brought.

"Wilspy"

With a pop the smiling little house elf materialises into existence and bows slightly.

"How can Wilspy help professor Albus sir?"

It crosses my mind that Wilspy could have been asleep, given the hour. Under any other circumstances I might have apologised for the intrusion, but I can hardly find the will to do so now. I indicate the wet mass at my feet.

"If you would be so good as to have these things cleaned and ready for the morning Wilspy I would truly appreciate it. Also, and this is to go no further until I have said otherwise, young Mr Potter will be residing in my quarters until further notice. He is feeling poorly and will require care and attention to see him back to normal. If you could see to some food, perhaps a light broth or something similar before he retires I would be more than in your debt."

"Wilspy is being happy to help professor Albus sir! I be bringing young Harry Potter soup and warm milk, and Wilspy be thinking that master Albus be bestest wizard to help young Harry Potter get normal sir!"

I smile, despite my own unsettled emotions. Wilspy is truly a small ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. I watch as the diminutive elf clicks a finger and both she and the clothes at my feet disappear soundlessly. I sit on the spot recently vacated by Harry and wandlessly summon a never-out quill and some parchment from my bedroom. Although vastly empty, the castle remains home to one or two professors this summer and I want to make them aware of the situation before breakfast. I have just started to form the words in my head when a small click alerts me to Harry's Presence at the bathroom door. I stand and turn, my eyes finding him easily. He looks cleaner to be sure, but more exhausted than can be healthy for someone so young. I beckon him forward with a gesture and he approaches, his steps silent as his bare feet sink into the thick pile of the many rugs scattered across the room. His eyes, though heavy and sad, remain alert, and I smile to ease any discomfort he may be experiencing in my presence.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes sir"

His voice is small, weak sounding, but now that he is closer I am relieved to see a healthy pink glow to his previously ghost white skin. I pick up the button down top that matches the pyjama bottoms and hold it out for him to step into. He does so slowly and I catch a slight wince when he twists his arm to reach the second sleeve. I leave him to button the top that seems to swallow him and step around to the small table and the potions that rest there. I sit at the end and indicate that Harry should sit at the other, which he does, and I wait until he has finished putting the warmed socks on before I hand him the charmed blanket. His eyes become even heavier as the heat both comforts and calms and I watch as he draws his knees up to his chest and turns slightly so he can see me without twisting. I myself turn slightly, bringing one knee up to rest against the seat between us.

"Harry, I do not know what troubles have lead you to me tonight, nor do you need to talk of them, at least not right now. I think we would both be better able to converse after a good nights sleep and a hearty breakfast, don't you agree?"

I can see relief in the wide eyes that meet my own and in the slump of his body against the cushioned couch back.

"Unfortunately Madam Pomphrey is visiting relatives overseas and isn't expected back for a least a month. I can heal small injuries myself of course, and know my way around a cauldron but before I do anything I need you to be completely honest with me Harry. I will not be angry or upset by any answer you give, please be assured of that. Ok?"

A slight nod, though his eyes have taken on that gleam of fear again.

"Do you have any other injuries besides the ones I have noticed already? That is to say, the bruising to your face and ribs?"

"No sir"

"Are you sure? No pain anywhere else? Feelings of dizziness or nausea?"

A slight hesitation. My gut clenches.

"I. I. My head hurts a bit."

"Did you fall? Or hit your head? Or is it more of a general headache?"

"A headache sir"

My gut unclenches and I'm completely convinced that I will have some definition in my mid section by the time young Harry is tucked up in bed.

"Thank-you. I think we will manage fine without the assistance of a medi-witch or wizard Harry. If you could unwrap yourself for a minute we'll get this over with quickly and see to getting you something to eat."

I sit forward so I am perched at the edge of my seat and withdraw my wand from inside my inner robe pocket. Once Harry has discarded the charmed blanket, albeit reluctantly, I motion for him to sit closer and watch as he shuffles along until he is sitting beside me. I lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Ok, this wont take but a minute, and it wont hurt. You will feel my magic brushing against yours, much the same as when madam pomphrey heals, and perhaps a slight dizziness, but it should be comfortable. If you want me to stop, or if something doesn't feel right, just tell me alright?"

Another nod. It occurs to me that Harry will likely remember little of this night come the morning. He is half asleep and obviously emotionally wrought, and I can't decide is forgetting the nights events with be a blessing. I attempt to clear my mind, I need to be focussed if I am to perform this magic correctly. It may not be taxing magic to do, but it was delicate and could easily go wrong.

I move a hand to rest softly against the left side of his body, my hand pushing against the material of his pyjama top until I can feel the heat of his skin beneath. He does not flinch and I am glad of the fact. I close my eyes and slowly reach out with my magic to prod the injured skin beneath. Harry shifts slightly beneath my hand and I open my eyes to check he is well. His own eyes are closed but his expression does not give any indication of pain and I surmise it was purely a reaction to my magic brushing against his own. I push against his magic with a little more force and prod the bone and muscle beneath the skin. I can sense no breaks, strains or tears and retreat slightly to the flesh covering his ribs. As far as I can tell there is only bruising, severe bruising, but thankfully nothing more. I take my hand away and watch as Harry blearily opens his eyes again. He seems calm and relaxed. Holding my wand in my right hand I subtly point it in the direction of his injury and mutter a few charms under my breath. Harry instantly tenses and I reach over with my other hand to grasp his hand, his fingers griping my own. Within seconds the majority of the deeper bruising has healed and I end the spell. Deciding not to drag this out any longer than necessary I pocket my wand and use a gentle touch to bring Harry's face around to face me. His eyes remain closed and I wonder if perhaps he has succumbed to exhaustion. The very fact he remains semi-upright negates that fact of course, but I would not be surprised if it was indeed the case.

I life my free hand, the other still being entwined with Harry's own and rest a palm against his cheek, my fingers curling so that I am cupping the left side of his face. My throat unexpectantly tightens when he presses his face against my touch, despite any pain, and I am reminded of how little physical affection this young boy has experienced. I close my eyes and push all sentimental thoughts from my mind in well-practised effort. Doing this wandlessly takes a little more concentration, and a little more energy, but I push my magic anyway and feel the bruising lying below the surface, waiting to emerge, dissolve beneath the force of the non-verbal spell. The slight swelling disappears next and finally the small cut on his bottom lip seals itself.

I take my time removing my hand, not wanting to startle him, and smile as he slowly opens his eyes.

"All better Harry. I'll give you a few potions to take that should take of any residual discomfort and by the morning you'll be as good as new."

The slight twitch I get from his lips is worth a thousand thank-you's. But he says it none the less. I reach behind me and pick up the pain-relieving potion, pop the seal and hand it to Harry. He drinks it without a moment's hesitation and I feel touched that he still trusts me implicitly despite the recent events. I think we can do without the bruising balm and the calming draught. At least for this evening. The calming draught, unfortunately, we may still have need of at some later date.

"Wilspy"

The elf again pops into existence, her Hogwarts towel spotlessly white against her grey tinted skin. Harry unconsciously moves slightly closer to me and I rub a hand across his back while I speak.

"Did you manage to procure a little supper for our Mr Potter Wilspy?"

Instead of an answer, Wilspy snaps her fingers and a tray appears, floating in mid air in front of a startled Harry. On it I can see the steam from a bowl of some kind of soup and beside it, a cup of warm milk.

"Excellent Wilspy. I believe we shall both be retiring after this. If you could wake me at the normal time in the morning, I would be most grateful. Thank-you for your assistance this evening."

"Wilspy is being happy to help Professor Albus and his young wizard sir!"

And with that she is gone. I notice Harry has made no move to touch the tray and frown over my glasses.

"Do you not like soup Harry? Or milk perhaps? I'm sure Wilspy would be more than happy to fetch something else if you desire it"

A shake of the head. I'm becoming worried that perhaps the boys voice box was victim to an attack as well.

"Its fine professor. I'm just not sure I'm that hungry. I'm sorry."

I do believe that is the most he has spoken since I discovered him in the stands. And another apology. We will most definitely be having a very long chat tomorrow.

"Harry you do not need to eat if you do not want to. I thought perhaps to give you the option but do not feel obligated. It is after all very late and you have had what I imagine to be a very trying day. To bed then, unless there is anything you would like to talk about first?"

He seems to consider it. I can see a question forming on his lips but he is unsure of it.

"I. Is it. I know I shouldn't be here…"

He stumbles over his words, his breathing quickening again in his frustration and urgency and I move a hand to his damp hair.

"Ssshhh, Harry. You are not going anywhere dear boy, except to bed. And I believe, as Hogwarts Headmaster, it is for me to decide who resides at the castle and who does not, no?"

This seems to calm him some, as I imagined it would, and before he can worry his way to another question I rise from my sitting position and again hold out a hand to help him up. I notice that he stands with a little less effort this time and I am glad that I could at least give him that. I pull him towards the master bedroom and open the door, the lamps turning on in the process. I drop his hand and move towards the huge four poster bed that dominates the room and peel back the blankets and sheets before turning and gesturing Harry to get in. He does so and seems tense again when I draw the heavy coverlets over him, fussing slightly with the sheets.

"I'll be right back"

I walk back into the sitting room and retrieve the dark bottle of dreamless sleep from the side table. About two sips should be enough to guarantee a sound, nightmare free rest. When I re-enter the room Harry has shifted onto his side and curled his legs up. I walk to the side of the bed and rest my weight against the edge of the mattress.

"Harry, I think it would of benefit to drink a little of this. It is dreamless sleep potion, I believe you have taken it before. Two small sips should be sufficient."

I uncork the top and hold it steady and Harry half sits up and takes the amount I requested. I predict he will be sound asleep in a matter of minutes, his own exhaustion adding to the effects of the potent potion. Already I can see his eyes shutter and his body relax into the comfortable embrace of the deep mattress below him. I reach a hand over and gently smooth his hair against his scalp.

"Have a good rest Harry. We will speak in the morning when you are feeling more like yourself dear boy. Ssshhhh, go to sleep."

I wandlessly lower the lights in the room as eventually his body and mind succumb to the exhaustion he has carried and he sinks into slumber.

I watch him sleep for a little longer before I move to leave the room, leaving the door ajar on my way out. Tonight I will sleep in the guest quarters down the hall, and will make sure to be up before young Harry. And tomorrow. Well, tomorrow I will get some answers, and make some arrangements.

**Next: The Big conversation. Agreements, arrangements and angst. **

Next chapter pending reviews.


	3. Chapter 3

Reparo 

Rated: PG13

Spoilers: Some events from OOTP. Nothing beyond that.

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me!

Authors Note: My heartfelt gratitude to those who took time out from there hectic lives to review my last chapter. Instead of listing review responses here I have decided to reply to each reader individually, so if you have any questions please feel free to leave them in a review and I will answer them as quickly as possible. You might notice that I've change narrative again. After playing with first person narration in my last chapter, I concluded that I feel much better in this style so I'll probably stick with that from now on. Hope that's ok. I'm not in any particular hurry in this fic and will not be racing to a conclusion, so most of the chapters will probably be detail focussed and slow in developing. Just to let you know. Ok, I'll leave you to read in peace now. As always, reviews are considered most kind.

P.s I'll be aiming to upload a new chapter at least once a week, more if I can manage it.

Last time on Reparo 

_I uncork the top and hold it steady and Harry half sits up and takes the amount I requested. I predict he will be sound asleep in a matter of minutes, his own exhaustion adding to the effects of the potent potion. Already I can see his eyes shutter and his body relax into the comfortable embrace of the deep mattress below him. I reach a hand over and gently smooth his hair against his scalp._

"_Have a good rest Harry. We will speak in the morning when you are feeling more like yourself dear boy. Ssshhhh, go to sleep."_

_I wandlessly lower the lights in the room as eventually his body and mind succumb to the exhaustion he has carried and he sinks into slumber._

_I watch him sleep for a little longer before I move to leave the room, leaving the door ajar on my way out. Tonight I will sleep in the guest quarters down the hall, and will make sure to be up before young Harry. And tomorrow. Well, tomorrow I will get some answers, and make some arrangements._

Harry awoke in degrees. He became aware of being both warm and comfortable first, his mind too groggy to realise the unusualness of waking in either of these conditions, let alone both. The brushed cotton below his cheek felt heavenly against his skin, and he subconsciously shifted his face against it, revelling in the novel sensation. His next sense to awaken was his sense of smell. With his eyes still sealed closed, his mind slowly picked through the different scents assaulting his nose and took long minutes to put names to them. Sandalwood, fresh cotton, lavender and soap. Next, he became aware of his body. There was fullness in his bladder, which was mildly uncomfortable but not unbearable. It could wait awhile longer. There was also stiffness in his muscles and joints when he rolled onto his back and threw an arm across his eyes. That was nothing unusual though and certainly not a concern worth grappling with half-asleep. Harry drifted for long minutes in the blissful state between wakefulness and sleep, his mind pleasantly blank, until the pressure on his bladder became decisively uncomfortable. Rolling onto his side again he blearily forced his eyes apart, wincing slightly when the little light coming from a gap in the heavy drapes speared his sensitive retinas. Harry lazily blinked a few times and reached up soap-scented hands to rub away the sleep while enjoying a jaw-popping yawn.

The first thing he noticed was the drapes. He was directly facing them from his position on his side and he spent a moment studying them in confusion. They were heavy and old that much he could tell with an untrained eye, and they covered what appeared to be a huge ceiling to floor window. He didn't have a ceiling to floor window in his room was his first thought. And if he did his relatives most assuredly wouldn't be dressing it in expensive heavy drapes.

And then he was standing next to the bed, one sheet still clinging to his ankle, his breathing quickened.

His eyes scanned the room in darted movements, catching sight of the enormous bed in which he had lay, the antique furniture and tapestries and finally the ornately embroidered robe that lay strewn across the armchair in the corner of the room. He had seen that particular robe before.

With an almost overwhelming flood of emotion and realization, Harry remembered the day before and his journey to Hogwart's. He wasn't sure whether or not he was going to faint or be sick and his skin prickled in the most horrible way as the tiny hairs across his body stood on end. An assortment of hazy memories assaulted his mind, his journey on the knight bus, sitting on a bench staring onto a dark quiddich pitch, Dumbledore…

Oh Merlin…

His memories became even hazier as he tried to remember what had happened next. He had been for a bath, that much he remembered. Dumbledore had spoken to him, but try as he might he could not remember actual words, just the fuzzy half remembered feelings of comfort and safety they had evoked. He squeezed his eyes shut and frowned deeply, frustration and panic building as his mind refused to clarify anything beyond what he had felt. He remembered the fire in what he thought must have been a sitting room and the tingle of Dumbledore's magic as he…

Harry sat down quickly at the edge of the bed when his knees threatened to give out from under him. Another swell of emotion, like a large relentless wave crashed over his psyche, and Harry pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes in an attempt to stop the perfectly preserved memory of what had taken place yesterday evening. In a corner of his mind, one not churning with emotion and images, he found it ironic that he would remember this memory, one so full of pain and hate, and not the ones filled with comfort and love.

An image of his uncles face, red and snarling, filled his minds eye, and he almost winced in memory as he recalled the mans foot coming towards him, striking him between his elbow and hip as he lay curled on the floor, his head still swimming from the first blow. That image was not what had Harry scrambling from the bed, nor was it to blame for his frantic search of the room, looking for his clothing.

He should never have come here. What had he been thinking? He thought to himself as he lifted covers from the bed, searching under them for any sign of his clothes. With a half growl, half whimper Harry threw himself down on the armchair he had noticed earlier and willed the stinging away from his eyes. His full bladder made itself known once again, uncaring of his current inner torment, and Harry winced slightly in acknowledgment, pressing his thighs together. What Dumbledore must think, he thought bitterly, running away from home for tea and sympathy from the greatest wizard of the age, for a beating that didn't even score high in comparison to ones he had had in the past. But he could not berate himself forever, not unless he wanted to add wetting himself to the list of stupid and embarrassing things he had done in the past twenty-four hours.

Standing, his fingers went to his injured side hesitantly, and he was both relieved and grateful when he felt no residual pain or discomfort from his prodding. This upcoming conversation was going to be painful enough, he thought, without any physical pain adding to it. Harry looked down at himself and was almost surprised by his attire. Crimson red pyjamas, four sizes too big, with a gold embroidered AD on the breast pocket. He vaguely recalled donning them last night, but hadn't particularly noticed the size or detail. Not that it mattered, he admitted. He was just stalling for time. Unfortunately his physical needs were not in on the plan and protested with a worsening pressure. It was time to find the toilet.

Harry paused briefly at the side of the bed to retrieve his glasses and wand. His spectacles and a pitcher of water and glass were the only things cluttering the surface and he felt a twinge of panic when a quick search around the bedside table found no sign of his wand. Perhaps Dumbledore has it, he thought. Walking to the door, he noticed for the first time it was slightly ajar, and wondered if Dumbledore was sitting outside, waiting for him. That thought alone was almost enough to have him seek out a plant pot or flower vase. Although the headmaster had been kind and accommodating the night before, Harry couldn't help but feel that the wizard would have a thing or two to say to him about running away from the safety of Privet Drive, to say nothing of the state he had been in…

Marshalling his Gryffindor courage he opened the door enough to slip through and crept soundlessly into the room he remembered from last night. It was indeed a sitting room, he noted, and could have easily been matched with the room's chief resident. Books covered many surfaces, as well as taking up every shelf on the two wall to wall bookcases that covered the far wall. There were knick-knacks and strange contraptions on other surfaces, not as animated as the ones in the offi…

Harry stopped that line of thought with a mental shutter. He did not want to think of that particular office or that particular day.

The room was empty besides himself and he puffed out a sigh of relief, his eyes searching for the door he remembered from the night before as his body began to lean from foot to foot to ease the discomfort. It didn't take long to spot it, directly facing the door he shadowed now, and he almost ran to it in his haste to be rid of the source of his current unease.

The Sound of the toilet flushing seemed terribly loud in the quiet of the bathroom, and Harry quickly put the lid down to try to stifle the sound of rushing water. After washing his hands he exited through the heavy mahogany door into the warmth of the sitting room and froze, his eyes instantly catching sight of the figure closing the door he assumed led to the rest of the castle behind him. Dumbledore looked resplendent in midnight blue robes, his hair and beard almost glowing against the dark fabric. Harry, finally realising he was gaping, tore his eyes away from his headmaster and closed the bathroom door with a small click. Shuffling forward a little, his socked feet making no noise, he looked down at his hands and cringed slightly when he saw them trembling. The silence, which before had been almost a comfort, was now oppressive and he quickly moved to fill it.

"Professor Dumbledore, I don't want you to think, that is, you may be thinking that someone, well, I really didn't mean to leave sir. It was stupid I know and I understand if your angry, I just, I wanted, I don't know sir, I…"

"Harry, stop."

Harry's eyes darted from his hands to the man now standing closer, and instantly a lump he remembered too well clogged his throat. He moved his hands to tangle behind his back in the hopes of hiding the evidence of his distress, but could not stop the slight hitch in his breathing or the glaze of moisture across his eyes behind his glasses. There was more he wanted to say but his throat was tight and thick and he knew if he made any move to speak the monster within would unleash a roar. As Dumbledore took another step forward, to within arms reach of him, Harry felt his chest ache in a familiar way, as though his very heart was swelling within his chest to an unbearable size, pushing against his ribs and breastbone. He shook his head from side to side quickly, his eyes meeting his headmasters own understanding ones as he moved closer yet.

"Harry, emotions have the power to overwhelm us, pushing us to do things and say things we either regret or rejoice. They can consume us with their power, greater than the greatest wizard or the most powerful spell. They can protect or harm, push us or hold us back, lead us to greatness or destruction. All emotion has purpose Harry, it is the body and minds way of helping us deal with whatever life has dealt us. It is what makes us human."

Harry could feel wetness on his cheeks and a trembling in his chin. He closed his eyes tightly when Dumbledore ran the backs of his fingers across one cheek, a half formed sob escaping from his mouth. Images of his uncle gave way to the terrible image of Sirius' face as he fell backwards through the veil, the green light of the curse he had not quite deflected still lighting his eyes.

"Emotions can help us heal Harry. They can help repair a damaged soul as well as destroy one. Do not let this pain destroy you Harry. You are too well loved by too many people who would miss you too much. Let it go my boy."

Dumbledore's words were hard to hear and he realised, in a part of his brain not consumed by this fire, that it was because of the keening sound coming from his throat. The pain in his chest had turned to fire and he bent forward slightly to try to ease it, a hand clutching the material across his chest. A huge bubble of something hot and painful clawed its way up his throat from his chest and when he opened his mouth to gasp a loud sob emerged, quickly followed by another. Harry felt large hands grasp his upper arms and move him on trembling legs a few paces before pushing him down to sit on something soft. Hot tears now coursed unchallenged down his cheeks but he made no move to stop them, his mind too occupied with throwing images of everything that had happened over these past few years. Cedric, Voldermort, Uncle Vernon, Sirius….

Harry felt as though he couldn't catch his breath and the sobs that had started seconds before showed no sign of stopping. A warm hand cupped the side of his face and pulled him until he felt something warm and solid beneath his cheek, the thrum of magic and soft material adding to the sense of safety and comfort. He felt arms encircle him and burrowed his head more firmly against the material, his hands coming up to clutch fistfuls of midnight blue material. A rumble both from above his head and below his ear formed words and he tried desperately to listen, looking for anything to anchor himself.

"That's it Harry, let it go. You are safe here my boy, you can cry for as long and as hard as you like. You needn't be so strong all of the time. What has happened to you, what you have had to deal with would be an overwhelming toll on any man. And you are not yet a man, young Harry, but a boy still. A confused, angry, kind, soft hearted and hurt boy, but a child no less."

Harry, face hidden within the folds of Dumbledore's robe, continued to cry for long minutes, his body finally relaxing into a boneless slump. A continuous rumble of encouragements and reassurances issued from above him and large hands rubbed his back and hair in soft, rhythmic motions, lulling him into eventual calmness. When the tears had stopped and the images had faded to black in his mind, Harry felt exhausted. His face felt swollen and tacky and his clothes and hair stuck uncomfortable to his body and scalp. Every so often his breathing would hitch and shudder but he was passed the point of caring, his mind blessedly blank and emotions thankfully numb. The hand that had not stopped its comforting circuit paused briefly against his back and Harry felt the tickle of magic as it swept over him, both cooling and cleansing his body. He made no move to either acknowledge or complain though.

"Whenever I have a good cry I often feel groggy and unsociable for hours afterwards Harry, and want nothing more than to be left alone to sleep. But experience has proven time and again that this course of action only serves to worsen my general state rather than improve it. I have found that eating good food and spending time in the company of others is a much better, and longer lasting antidote. Come, lets get our day started Harry hmm? I'm sure Wilspy is wondering how long exactly it takes a young wizard to get dressed."

Harry took a deep shuddering breath and let it out slowly. He did feel groggy and unsociable and the sound of crawling back into bed sounded good but he knew that Dumbledore would not allow it. Pulling his face away from where it had been burrowed Harry blinked a few times to clear the misty like sheen and slowly sat up, the arms around him moving to assist. When he raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore's he watched the man smile gently at him and wave a hand across his face, drying the moisture that had smeared the glass of his spectacles. There was no judgement in the sparkling blue eyes that met his, no mockery or pity. Just reassurance. He felt the corner of his own mouth twitch slightly despite the despair still lingering.

"Better?"

It was no more than a whisper, and Harry appreciated it. Although exhausted, slightly embarrassed and low, he had to admit that the pain in his chest had lessened somewhat.

"Yes"

His voice was croaky and dry sounding and he saw a slight wince cross his headmasters face, as though the very sound was painful to experience.

"Lets get you some sweet tea and something to eat Harry, I'm sure Wilspy is beside herself by now."

With a clap from Dumbledore a small house elf dressed in a spotlessly white Hogwarts towel appeared, making Harry jump. He vaguely remembered this little elf from last night.

"Ah Wilspy, excellent. Some breakfast if you please for Harry. Also a cup of tea for myself and some of that wonderful shortbread our Professor McGonagall so enjoys, if there is any left."

"Wilspy be happy to get those things Professor Albus sir! Would Harry Potter be wanting anything special?"

Harry frowned for a moment, uncomfortable with the two sets of eyes now looking at him expectantly.

"Umm, just whatever you have Wilspy would be fine, thank-you."

"Good Harry Potter not be needing to thank Wilspy! You be needing to rest and listen to Professor Albus! And eat lots of good food!"

Harry didn't really appreciate the lecture from the diminutive elf when he was feeling unsteady but knew she was only concerned for his welfare. Apparently Dumbledore agreed with Wilspy.

"Very sage advice Wilspy. I'm sure young Harry will try his best."

Wilspy seemed to glow under the praise and with a lopsided grin she vanished mid twirl. Harry wondered if she usually did that or if she was particularly excited at the prospect of having two wizards to serve. After a quick visit to the bathroom to wash his face and blow his nose, Harry sat down at the small table beneath the window and stared at the tabletop in astonishment. A huge plate, pilled high with sausages, mushrooms, bacon, pancakes, fluffy eggs and round grilled tomatoes sat steaming. A huge mug sat next to it, it sweet aroma battling with the smells coming from the cooked breakfast beneath his nose. A small stack of dry toast sat on the opposite side and beside it a tall glass of milk. His wide eyes moved from the milk to the professor, sitting serenely on the other chair directly facing him, a steaming cup of tea in one hand and what appeared to be the daily prophet in the other.

"She really can't expect me to eat all this can she?"

Dumbledore looked up from his paper and peered at Harry across the top of his glasses. A smirk played around his mouth.

"I'm sure that Wilspy, though initially displeased, would understand if your stomach was not up to such a grand meal. Please eat what you can though Harry, I fear your skipping meals, or being denied them, whichever is the case, has done you little good."

Harry immediately looked down to the plate, not wanting his professor to see the emotions those words had stirred within him. Determined not to speak on it any further he picked up the knife and fork at each side and began to eat slowly.

Ten minutes later a large proportion of the food was gone, as well as one slice of toast and Harry sat reclining in his seat sipping the ice-cold milk. He was fit to burst at any moment he was sure. The food had been delicious, as it always was here, and he hadn't realised just how hungry he had been until he had started eating. When he thought about it, his last meal had been two days before, and even then it had consisted of dry toast and sweets he had bought from the corner shop with his secret stash of money. Not exactly a nutritionally balanced diet. Dumbledore clearing his throat pulled him from his musings.

"Wilspy will be most pleased Harry, she does hate to see good food go to waste. Are you finished? Yes? Then let us retire to the sitting area, there is much to discuss."

Harry felt his stomach roll lazily, pushing his still digesting meal in circles. He stood slowly and walked, glass of milk still in hand; to the spot he had vacated earlier and sat heavily. The churning of his stomach calmed somewhat when he caught a reassuring smile from his headmaster, who had taken the armchair facing him.

Sorry, I know I promised that Dumbledore and Harry would have a long conversation in this chapter but I felt it was growing too long and decided to split it in two. This chapter, angst, next chapter, confrontations. Pending reviews of course ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Reparo 

Rated: PG13

Spoilers: Some events from OOTP. Nothing beyond that.

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me!

Authors Note: A thousand thank-yous to all my reviewers. As this chapter has been posted ahead of schedule, I will be waiting until later in the week to respond to reviews, to give everyone a chance to read it (That is, chapter 3 + 4). On a different note, I am currently in need of a beta reader, so if anyone has experience and is interested, please let me know by either email or in a review. I plan to have this fic cover Harry's entire summer, so it may be quite a few chapters. Anyway, I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this one. Reviews, as always my dears, are considered most kind.

Previously on Reparo 

"_Wilspy will be most pleased Harry, she does hate to see good food go to waste. Are you finished? Yes? Then let us retire to the sitting area, there is much to discuss."_

_Harry felt his stomach roll lazily, pushing his still digesting meal in circles. He stood slowly and walked, glass of milk still in hand; to the spot he had vacated earlier and sat heavily. The churning of his stomach calmed somewhat when he caught a reassuring smile from his headmaster, who had taken the armchair facing him._

Dumbledore noted Harry's discomfort and the slight shake of his hand as he sat the unfinished glass of milk on the side table with an internal sigh. This was certainly going to prove a difficult experience for them both, but he was determined to have the conversation regardless. Having more questions than answers was never a state of mind he was comfortable with, and being a scholar and alchemist it was in his nature to seek answers and solutions and where possible, new discoveries. He just wasn't sure that he would like the answers he would find, and equally feared any new discoveries when one was exploring the fragile mind of Harry Potter.

Still, it was the last thing he had to do today of any import, having accomplished much that morning while Harry was still sleeping off the effects of the potion and his own exhaustion. Wilspy had woken him at precisely six thirty this morning with a bright smile and a steaming cup of his favourite tea, as was their routine, and he had quickly dressed and ate his cereal before walking stiffly to his office. The mattress in the guest bedroom was comfortable enough, but he found he did not sleep as restfully in any bed not his own, and often felt the effect in his bones the next day. Sat at his desk he had drafted letters to his three colleagues still residing in the castle, those being Professors Snape, Trelawney and of course Binns. His notes had been short and vague, having little information himself, and was more of a precautionary measure in the event of him being required elsewhere in the immediate future. They had stated the fact that a student had returned to the school unannounced and in need of assistance and he was more than capable of dealing with the matter himself. Although educational decrees prohibited the accommodation of students during school summer holidays, it remained ultimately the headmasters decision, a small point he had omitted to tell Harry, wanting him to benefit from the protections offered at his relatives home for as long as possible. Had the young wizard known of the chance of persuading him to remain he was sure he would have found him at the gates of Hogwart's long before now. His colleagues knew this of course and so he had not received nor expected any reply from any of them.

Next he had written letters to the members of the Order, explaining in a little more detail what had transpired since the night before. He had requested that Moody and Lupin take up residence in Hagrid's hut in split shifts, Moody taking the first weeks, Remus the rest. If Harry were going to be staying with him for the remainder of the holidays he wanted help close at hand. Voldermort himself may not be able to breach the ancient wards, but he had found ways to enter before and could do so again. As could his devoted and deranged followers. Each had sent short notes back with Fawkes, agreeing with his suggestion and giving their consent to the plan. Moody had planned his arrival for the following day, requesting only that Hagrid's hut be cleared of any creature he would not like stunned or killed. Minerva had responded later, asking if he would like her to return to the castle early, and enquiring about Harry's health. He had responded in the negative to her first offer, albeit with his sincere thanks, and promised that although Harry was not at his best at the moment, he would try his very best to see to it that he was by the time term started again. Arabella Figg had also sent a note through the floo, blatantly asking permission to 'see to' the Dursleys. He had responded in kind, telling her that although he appreciated the sentiment and the desire to 'see to' Harry's remaining family, he did not think it prudent to draw attention to the fact he was no longer resident there. If the Order had someone keeping an eye out for Harry, chances were so did Voldermort. If he were brutally honest with himself though, he was saving that task for himself.

A small brown owl had next delivered him a letter from Molly and Arthur Weasley; Molly's writing slightly scribbled in her haste to note down her many, many questions. Was Harry ok? Did he want her to come to the school? Was he hurt? Did he need anything? What exactly had happened? Does he need clothes? Underwear? The list was both exhaustive and almost endless. Over the parchment had next been a list of advice and instructions; Make sure he eats Albus, A bath with Lavender would calm him, Give him lots of attention and affection, Set boundaries and rules… He had smiled in both fondness and exasperation and written a detailed and exact answer to encompass all of the dear families concerns. Harry was fine, anything he needed he would see to and he would be in touch in due course to update them on his condition. He was convinced that had the Weasley's floo network not been shutdown for repair, he would have had half a dozen red heads cramming around his desk by now.

Lastly he had received an internal memo, delivered by school owl, from Professor Snape. He had taken more time to compose a letter than the rest, and had expressed his displeasure quite colourfully. After approximately twelve inches of colourful writing he had finally stated his plans to leave the castle that night for his family estate in England, his reasons being the less time he spent with Potter, the less effort he would have to exert when in the presence of Voldermort, in trying to conceal recent memories. Albus had saw the logic in that and had used the same dark feathered owl to send a note back saying as much, and wishing him a restful holiday. If Severus were summoned he knew he would be the first person informed, and would have warning of Tom's return to full strength. He could only hope that such an event didn't take place in the very near future.

The rest of his morning had consisted of checking the wards on Privet Drive, responding to ministry owls and reinforcing the wards surrounding Hogwarts.

Dumbledore snapped back to the present when a movement caught his attention across from him. It had taken his mind only a few seconds to recollect his busy morning but he inwardly cursed his wandering mind and focussed once more on the slightly squirming boy in front of him, whose attention was riveted on a loose thread around the cuff of his pyjama top.

"As I said Harry, there are several important issues we must address this morning but you should feel free to stop me anytime if you want to ask a question or take a break. We are not in school time and this is not a dressing down or interrogation. You should feel comfortable and I will try to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. Ok?"

Harry looks up at me and I see and feel several emotions in his eyes and those he is projecting. Apprehension, fear, nervousness, anger and despair fight for dominance and I am not surprised.

"I am obviously curious as to what brought you to me last night Harry. In your own time, perhaps you would like to tell me what transpired?"

It looks as though it was the question Harry feared most if the hunching of his shoulders and the drawing up of his feet to the sofa is any indication. I clasp my hands in front of me and try my very best not to seem impatient or anxious, although both emotions are swirling inside of me. Harry's hands are in constant motion, fingers twisting around and through each other and I watch as he opens his mouth several times to start, only to close it again in frustration.

"You were at home? In Privet Drive?…"

I start for him and am glad when he moves quickly to reassure me of his whereabouts.

"Yes sir, I had hardly left the house all summer, well the two weeks I was there anyway. I know I shouldn't have left…"

"We'll get to that later Harry, for now tell me what happened at home to set you off. Were the Dursley's unusually cruel to you? Did they attempt to punish you for the warning they received at Kings Cross?"

I have of course been aware of the kind of people the Dursleys are for a very long time, and equally have known of the neglect and abuse Harry has suffered at their hands in the time he has spent with them. Up until now it has always been a necessary evil, something to be borne by Harry and the people who care for him and his ultimate safety. Their neglect and abuse had always been just enough to affect young Harry, but never enough to draw attention from either the muggle authorities and neighbours or the wizarding world. On the few occasions when they had stepped over the line he had been quick to set quill to parchment and remind them of their responsibility and place. Vernon Dursley had been reminded on numerous occasions throughout the years that there were bigger and stronger individuals than he, and he would meet a most unfortunate end if he raised a hand to the boy again. Obviously such warnings had lost potency in recent days.

Harry looks lost in memory, something I don't want, and I attempt to draw him out again.

"Whatever they did, however they done it, you were not to blame Harry. You were, and are still mourning the loss of your godfather and were in a state of shock over my revelations to you. You were also understandably angry, and still are, but none of those things, none of those emotions are reason for someone to hurt you my boy. Was it your uncle Vernon? Did he gift you those bruises I saw last night?"

Harry's eyes are wide and instead of an answer I receive a short nod in response, his breathing quickening just slightly. I must tread carefully.

"He, he. I found something, in my school trunk, and it made me. I didn't mean to make so much noise, I didn't even realise that I'd threw anything until later. I didn't see him coming. Usually I see him, or at least hear him and can run away, or hide. But I didn't, I was stupid. It wasn't so bad though, I think I might have pushed him away, or my magic did anyway, I'm not really sure, but he left me alone and I couldn't think, I just, I needed to get away from there. I know I shouldn't have left and I'm sorry that I did but you need to understand, I wasn't thinking straight…"

"Sshhh Harry, calm down my boy. No one is blaming you for running away, although I'll admit it wasn't the wisest course of action given current circumstances. It is understandable that you would want to flee, Harry, no one, _no one_ is blaming you for what happened. The fault lies with your quick-tempered and ignorant uncle who should know that raising a hand, or foot for that matter, in anger is never acceptable. Ever."

Harry again nods his head in brisk movements, his breathing slowing slightly as he processes my words. I shift forward on my seat slightly, leaning forward towards him and encourage him to continue.

"So you left the house and…?"

"I grabbed my wand and jacket and ran, they didn't try to stop me.."

That simple statement is almost more heart wrenching than the last.

"..i didn't know where I was going, I didn't really have a plan or anything, I just wanted to get away from them. I wanted…"

He pauses here, looking less upset and slightly more awkward. I'm relieved when he continues without the need for prodding.

"…I wanted to, to, be with my own kind, which I suppose is kind of funny cause after I left school, I mean after we had talked.."

Now he looks upset _and_ awkward, no doubt remembering our last conversation and his subsequent destruction of my office. There is still anger in his eyes though, despite his embarrassment and guilt, and I am almost glad to detect it.

"I think I understand Harry. You wanted to be near those who had knowledge of and understood what you have been through, and you find that somewhat ironic now after cursing the magical world two weeks past, yes?"

Harry looks relieved that I grasp what he is trying to convey without the need to go into what had been revealed that day or his reaction to it. I am not eager to revisit that day myself, at least not at the moment. Harry's emotions are particularly volatile as it is and I do not wish to have a repeat performance in my sitting room. It will need to be addressed soon of course, but I am more than happy to concentrate on more recent events first.

"I'm assuming you took the Knight bus from Surrey to Hogsmede Harry?"

Another flash of guilt, his hands disappearing beneath the too long sleeves as he crosses his arms across his chest.

"Yes sir. I didn't have any money with me though. I think Stan said to pay it next time but I can't really remember that much professor. They dropped me at the Hogs Head and I ran up to the gates, they let me in and the rest you already know."

The last is said quickly, as if the poor boy were racing to get to the end. I sit back in my seat as Harry stands and walks to the low burning fire in front of us, his back turned to me as he stares into the burning embers. I feel a sadness emanate from him as he stands there and conclude he is again caught in a memory. Unfortunately there have been so many occasions to be sad in Harry's short life that it is impossible for me to guess as to which one is playing on his mind now. I decide it would be safer not to guess at all.

"Would you care for something to drink Harry? Tea perhaps? Pumpkin juice? Milk?"

He does not answer right away, but the slight start he gives at the sound of my voice lets me know he heard my question. I watch as he turns his head slightly, his eyes settling on a tapestry of Hogwarts herself hanging on the wall above a long side table.

"Do the Dursleys know I'm here?"

His voice is no more than a whisper, but it carries across the short distance between us in the quiet of the room.

"Not as yet, no."

He turns back to the fire, his face hidden from view.

"I will of course be contacting them today, tomorrow at the latest, to inform them of the new arrangements."

One second. Two. Three. Four. Fi…

"New arrangements sir?"

He has turned to face me once more, his eyes a mixture of hope and apprehension. I stand slowly from my chair and take a few steps forward, until I am standing in front of him, his head tilted to keep eye contact with me. I place a hand on his shoulder, which I feel are as tense as a bow.

"As you are now aware, your mothers sacrifice, giving her life to save yours is what has kept you safe these many years Harry. The blood protection spell I performed when you were no more than a baby was tied to your only remaining kin, that being your Aunt Petunia, and you were guaranteed safety while you could call her family, and her home your home. But it did not protect you Harry from harm _within_ that home and that has been my single greatest regret. Over the past five years the spell protecting you from Voldermort has began to weaken, as you grew to resent and hate your relatives and their treatment of you. As you began to think as somewhere else as home Harry."

Harry's eyes are swimming again but I carry on, determined to put the boys mind at rest.

"You see Harry, the wards on Privet Drive are tied into you, into your heart and soul and your sense of belonging. Last night the wards around your relatives home diminished to such an extent that they are no longer able to protect you, and would not hold if Voldermort decided to launch a full-scale attack upon them. As such I have made arrangements for you to remain here, at the castle, until start of term. I will be acting as your guardian during this time and will be responsible for your welfare and all that entails. Hogwarts wards are strong enough to resist any attack, and I have asked Order members to stay close by in case I am proved wrong. You will be safe here Harry, and cared for if you let me, and you _will not_ go back to the Dursleys ever again if I can help it."

I have no sooner finished talking when Harry launches himself into my arms, his body once again wracked with sobs. I stagger back slightly under the weight of him but quickly find my footing and wrap both arms around the too small boy, one hand finding the back of his head and holding him against me. I bend my head to whisper against his hair.

"Forgive an old man his mistakes Harry. I have only ever wanted to protect you from harm, and in the process of doing so have done that which I so desperately feared."

Harry clutches me tighter and I do the same in return, muttering nonsense into his ear in an effort to again calm him. I realise that this is probably the most Harry has cried in years and feel both privileged and sad that he has done so today. After a few minutes I feel his sobs subside to be replaced by hiccups and sniffles and loosen my hold on him, so that if he chooses to draw away he will not have any difficulty. Another few minutes pass and his hold has lessened but not completely, and his face remains pressed against my chest, a wet patch on my robes circling his cheek.

I take one hand from its place against his back and fish in my pocket for a handkerchief, finally gaining the boys attention. He leans back slightly to see what it is I am doing and I notice his bleary red-rimmed eyes and runny nose. I find the length of linen finally and hold it out to him, his thanks muffled as he wipes his eyes and blows his nose noisily. I again grasp a shoulder and lead him to his former seat, sitting down next to him my hand not leaving his arm.

"I know you are tired Harry and probably overwhelmed with everything I have said but there are just a few more things I think you should know before you go for a nap."

His eyes flash slightly at the word nap and I suppress the slight twitch forming on my lips. I clear my throat and look at him over the top of my glasses.

"Before your mind has a chance to form worries and questions for you to fret over I want to make a few things quite clear Harry. You will not be and are not a burden. I am happy to care for you this summer and would have been staying at the castle regardless of your being here or not. I also understand that you still have mixed feelings towards me and will not expect that to change until you are ready. I understand too that you are a growing boy who needs privacy and respect, both of which you will be granted while you are here. I will arrange a bedroom for you in my suite and it will yours to do with as you wish, I will respect your need for time alone Harry. I ask in return that you obey my instruction, remembering that I have only your best interests at heart my boy. I will not ask anything of you except your co-operation and respect. If you have any problem I will expect you to come to me and we will discuss ways in which to solve it. This isn't the Dursleys Harry; you will not be punished for the slightest infraction. I will never raise a hand to you my boy you have my word. If punishment is due then it will be discussed and handed down, but it will never involve physical pain or emotional abuse. I promise you that. Finally, and most importantly, I ask that you remain within the boundaries of the castle Harry. I cannot emphasis enough how dangerous it could be for you to leave the castle grounds my boy. You had a lucky escape yesterday; I would not wish to tempt the fates yet again. Does all of that sound reasonable to you young man? Please feel free to point out any aspects that seem unfair or indeed anything I have missed. I am sure that should anything arise that we have not thought of we will manage to muddle through."

Harry blinked owlishly for a moment or two, as though trying to translate and process all I had said. After several long moments, moments in which I which I started to replay my 'headmasters' speech in my head looking for wrong words or sentiments, Harry's voice cut across my internal monologue.

"I can stay here?"

I chuckled, despite my effort to stop, and smiled fondly at the boy in front of me.

"Yes Harry, you are more than welcome."

And then the most wondrous, unexpected and warming thing happened. Harry smiled. A genuine, eye lighting, dimple showing smile and I felt happier than I had in months.

Next: Harry's P.O.V. Settling down in the castle, and what exactly it means to have a guardian.

Be a good reader and review please.


	5. Chapter 5

**Reparo**

Rated: PG13 (Angst, maybe a swear word or two)

Spoilers: Some events from OOTP and before. Nothing beyond that.

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me!

**Authors Note**:

Happy New Year!!! I hope 2008 brings you luck, good health and happiness!

A major apology is in order. I had stated in my review responses that I would have this update posted before Christmas. Ummm. Well, its now 2008!! So sorry about that folks, I got caught up in all the seasonal fun (hiccup!). Anyway, a huge thank-you to those who took the time to review the last chapter. As I've said previously, I intend for this to be a drawn out angsty mentor fic covering Harry's entire summer, and so far we're only a few days into it, so much more to come. As always I love to hear what readers think, so please, take time to review if you can spare it.

Previously on Reparo 

_Harry blinked owlishly for a moment or two, as though trying to translate and process all I had said. After several long moments, moments in which I which I started to replay my 'headmasters' speech in my head looking for wrong words or sentiments, Harry's voice cut across my internal monologue._

"_I can stay here?"_

_I chuckled, despite my effort to stop, and smiled fondly at the boy in front of me._

"_Yes Harry, you are more than welcome."_

_And then the most wondrous, unexpected and warming thing happened. Harry smiled. A genuine, eye lighting, dimple showing smile and I felt happier than I had in months. _

The weather hadn't changed much from the previous night Harry noted as he gazed out across the expansive lawn and distant Quiddich pitch. The sun would soon be setting behind the tall trees of the forbidden forest, and its dying rays caught the light mist of rain as it floated almost serenely across the grounds of Hogwarts. Heavy rain laden clouds, dark and broody, moved sluggishly overhead, the edges of some tainted pink by the powerful reach of the sun. The wind had finally exhausted itself, leaving the view from the window seat an almost peaceful picture of typical Scottish weather, cold, wet and bloody miserable. Harry's sigh left a small cloud of rapidly evaporating condensation on the window. He turned his eyes away from the depressing sight and instead looked across the room he was currently occupying, his mind wandering to earlier.

He had indeed gone for a sleep after his emotionally draining talk with the headmaster this morning, albeit under protest. Although his body cried out for the comfortable embrace of the mattress he had felt earlier, his mind protested the idea of being bedded down like a five year old, instead of the fifteen year old he was. Dumbledore had insisted however, gently but firmly guiding him to the headmaster's bedroom and had, much to Harry's embarrassment and irritation tucked the covers around him. If that hadn't been bad enough the man had sat there, at the edge of the bed, one hand resting on his back and had shushed him and told him to relax. Harry remembered the whispered nonsense Dumbledore had muttered as he sat there, the hand on his back steadily coming down with a gentle thump. And when his body had refused to settle, he remembered the feeling of warm magic emanating from the middle of his back and spreading out to his fingers and toes, turning his tense muscles to butter. His body had sunk bonelessly into the soft mattress soon after, and his eyes had drifted closed and that was the last he remembered until he had woken two hours later to his own company. But not for long. Dumbledore had, in his usual chipper and cheerful tones, breezed into the bedroom as though he had known the exact moment he had risen. Harry had no doubt now that the wizard probably did. Before Harry had woken proper, he found himself in the bathroom, fresh clothes in hand, standing before a bath filled with steaming scented water. Still hazy and feeling the slight tickle of magic he remembered from his sleep, he had bathed and dressed, only noticing when he went to put them on that the clothes were in fact new, as far as he could tell, and not the ones he recalled arriving in.

He had then joined Dumbledore in the sitting room and had been hussled over to the dining table before he could form a question, all the time listening to his headmasters deep gravely tones telling him the history of the room and then the ingredients of the home-made ham broth than appeared before him. Harry had eaten the soup with relish, the thick broth hot and tasty and lightly spiced. He had felt like a new person by the end of it, and worried that perhaps something had been added to the soup to exact such a result. As though reading his mind, again, Dumbledore had chuckled, his moustache quivering comically, and had reassured him that the elves cooking was indeed magical, but the restorative qualities were due to their skill rather than the adding of potions. Dumbledore had then asked him to follow him and Harry had done so warily, his mental and emotional state still fragile and confused. The Professor had led him out of the sitting room into a corridor he didn't remember at all. They had walked down the corridor to a door very similar to the headmasters own and Dumbledore had, with a twitch of his hand, opened it before Harry and had gestured for Harry to precede him with a gentle smile. Harry had entered nervously, his eyes wide as he looked around the room. A bed, very much like his one in the Griffindor dormitory, stood against the wall furthest to his left, complete with maroon and gold curtains and bedding. A tall mahogany wardrobe took up most of the space on the wall to his right, its wood gleaming in the light cast by the window directly facing him. As he looked around in wonder and confusion he heard Dumbledore close the door behind them and walk further into the room, ending up standing just behind him. Harry had turned slowly, his eyes catching things he had not noticed before. Like the small desk and chair that had been hidden behind the door, complete with an inkwell and blank parchment. Like the tapestry hanging on the wall, a smaller version of the one in the sitting room of Hogwarts, magically tacked to the wall above the desk. Like the door beside the wardrobe, left slightly ajar and showing what looked to be a small toilet and sink. Harry had turned to face his Professor and had become alarmed when, at the kind and understanding look on his face, his breathing had hitched and his chest had swelled with heat and tightness and pain. Determined not to cry, again, he had swallowed the emotion and quelled the heat in his chest with a few deep breaths. His Professor, obviously realising the significance of the moment for him, had left him alone in his new room with a hoarse few words, telling him he would be in the sitting room or his office when he wanted company, and to call for Wilspy if he required anything or any change to his rooms.

That had been some hours before, and as Harry refocused his mind on the present he wondered idly exactly how long it had been. An hour? Two? He couldn't be sure. He had taken some time to explore the room, discovering to his astonishment and some other unidentified emotion, a closet full of new clothes. Upon opening the drawers at the bottom of the wardrobe he had discovered underwear, t-shirts, pyjamas, jumpers, trousers and jeans and more socks than he knew what to do with. Hanging had been a heavy coat as well as a light jacket, shirts of varying colours, assorted robes and a few zipper cardigans that Harry preferred. Upon the shelve above the hangers had been a few hats, mostly woollen, and a pair of running shoes and all purpose boots. All were the correct size, right down to the underwear, of which he had a choice of either boxers or briefs.

In the desk drawers he had discovered some school books for the following year, obviously from the library, and a note from the Headmaster informing him that the books were in fact Hogwarts own, and would tide him over until he was again in possession of his own. There had also been quills of the likes he had never seen in a classroom. Electric blue, vivid turquoise and crimson red feathers stood out quite shockingly against the dark wood of the table as Harry had laid them down.

Since his discoveries, he had perched himself on the cushion at the window seat and had tried to process everything that had happened, how he felt about it and what his plan was for the immediate future. Unfortunately he had not progressed past the 'process everything that has happened' stage yet. When he had left for Hogwarts the only thing on his addled mind at the time was to seek safety and, if he were honest with himself, solace. He could of course have gone to any number of places instead, now he thought about it. The Burrow would have welcomed him with open arms and enough food to last him weeks. The Grangers, though strangers to him, seemed like decent people and would have probably given him some measure of comfort and subsidence. And then there was the ancient and most noble house of Black. Harry instantly turned his thoughts away from that house and his memories of it.

Instead he had run to Hogwarts, and to the man he somehow knew would be there. But why? Hogwarts itself, as he had already admitted to himself on more than one occasion, was the only real home he had ever had despite the many trials he had faced within its walls. But Dumbledore?

Harry sighed again and rubbed a cool hand over his eyes under his glasses. Dumbledore had not been exaggerating when he had said he had mixed feelings concerning him. Respect had of course always been there. He had revered the man since his first day aboard the Hogwarts express, his eleven-year-old self stunned and awed at the great wizard who had achieved so much and who was respected the wizarding world over. Harry had always felt safe with him, knowing he was near and would protect him against enemies unknown had always been a comfort. And of course he was a great wizard, powerful and wise, all knowing (or so he had thought in his earlier years at school) and dependable. He had been the only adult in his life who was consistently there, the only one who had not hurt him or harmed him, the only one who had not let him down. Until this year.

Harry felt a surge of anger that propelled him to his feet and had him pacing the floor in front of the window. Since first finding out he was a wizard Harry's mind had been plagued with questions. Why had Voldermort wanted him dead as a baby? Why had the curse rebounded as it had? Why had Dumbledore not killed the snake-like bastard himself? Why did Voldermort try, every chance he got, to kill him? Those questions and more had gone unanswered, year after year. Until just over two weeks ago, when Dumbledore had sat with him after loosing his godfather and being possessed by Voldermort, and had calmly and sadly told him the truth, at last. And what a terrible truth it was.

Harry moved to sit on the bed, his hands shaking slightly as he ran them rhythmically up and down his thighs. He forced his mind away from those thoughts, away from that ghostly and un-natural voice that had vocally sentenced him to a life of pain and hardship. Instead he focussed on Dumbledore, on his anger towards him. Why hadn't he told him of the prophecy before? So many things could have been different, so many alternate paths could have been taken, and so many lives could have been saved. Had he only known…

Dumbledore had said he cared too much for him, that he was too young to know of such things, to be burdened with such a weight. Another surge of anger caused the glass pitcher, sitting on his bedside table, to buzz ominously, but he paid it no heed. Who was he to decide such things? What right did he have? If it wasn't for him Sirius…

The glass pitcher cracked, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. Harry tried to quiet himself, taking deep breaths and physically tried to relax some of the muscles in his shoulders.

Harry could not of course dismiss what the Headmaster had done _for_ him though. He was quite sure that had it not been for Dumbledore's intervention on several occasions he would have been expelled from school entirely. He had also saved his life on more than one occasion, and those were only the ones he knew about. He had rescued him from quirell/voldermort, taking him to the hospital wing for medical assistance. And of course he had duelled Voldermort himself, to protect Harry, his reasons for not killing him only now obvious. He had also been a friend to Harry, a mentor, guiding him and advising him without drawing attention to the fact. Perhaps that's why it had hurt so much to then have been ignored and rejected by him this past year, because he had come to depend on Dumbledore's presence and wisdom.

He still felt that hurt now, sitting on the bed in his new bedroom. Like a scrape that hadn't healed properly, it stung and throbbed.

And now he had given Harry that which he had so longed for. The feeling of being wanted. Of having somewhere he could call home. Of having someone who would….

He wasn't really sure what he wanted Dumbledore to do exactly. So far he had felt awkward and embarrassed by his treatment, but he wasn't sure if that was more to do with his feeble hold on his emotions rather than Dumbledore's paternal gestures. He also, regardless of the headmaster's assurances, felt himself a burden. Surely the headmaster of Hogwart's, leader of the Order and greatest light wizard of their times had better things to do than play guardian to an emotional, angry, confused and needy teenager. Harry assumed he had enough of that during the rest of the year.

His thoughts swam in circles and roundabouts, contradictory and exhausting. He didn't want to think any longer. Standing up he slid his socked feet into the slippers that had been left at the side of the bed and shuffled to the door. Out in the hall he took a few minutes to familiarise himself with the layout, noticing only two other doors before the hallway turned a corner. The one on the right he now knew led to the sitting room. The other was closed and although curiosity tickled his brain, he turned instead and slowly opened the sitting room door, both relieved and disappointed when it revealed an empty room. Or perhaps not. In the corner, by the window, a movement caught his eye, and Harry smiled when he recognised the bright red plumage of Fawkes. Walking towards the dozing bird, he smiled even wider when the phoenix raised its head and blinked at him, before issuing a soft warble, the sound of which left Harry feeling warm and contented.

"Hallo Fawkes" he whispered, reaching out a hand to stroke the bird's head and neck. As if in response the great bird knocked its head against his palm and sang a long and clear note, its sound filling the room. Harry chuckled quietly and bent forward to knock his forehead against the birds own, its soft feathers tickling the skin of his face as he pulled away.

"It's nice to see you too"

A quieter, softer sound was his only response. It was clear from the way the bird's neck straightened and its head tilted to the side that something else had caught its attention, but Harry still jumped when a deep rumble came from behind him.

"I see you and Fawkes have become reacquainted."

Harry spun around, his hand automatically going to his waist for his wand, which of course wasn't there.

Dumbledore, seeing the action, reached into his own blue robes as he spoke.

"My apologies Harry, I did not mean to startle you. I was in my office seeing to some owls when I heard Fawkes' call. I assumed you must be here and wanted to give you something."

Harry watched the headmaster dig his hand in the wide pocket of his robe, muttering under his breath.

"I know it's in here somewhere…Ah!"

Holly and phoenix feather, 11 inches, supple and strong and of course, twin to Voldermorts own. Harry was probably the only wizard alive that could claim to react happily to seeing this particular wand. Dumbledore handed it over with a flourish, handle first, his eyes watching Harry over the top of his half moon spectacles. Harry grasped the handle and immediately felt the warmth and flurry of magic as the raw energy rushed to fill the supple wood. It felt good, no better than good, it felt wonderful and Harry didn't think twice before bringing the wand down in an arc, much the same as when he'd first received it, and smiled when it issued a series of bright sparks and colours. His smile soon faltered however when he remembered who was watching his little display and what the consequences were for actively using magic while underage and whilst not in school time. Looking up from his wand through his lashes, he watched his Professors lips twitch in what was undoubtedly an effort not to smile. Feeling better but not exactly completely reassured Harry made a move to speak.

"Sir, I didn't mean, that is to say, I know I'm not supposed to.."

"Relax dear boy! The magic that surrounds Hogwart's is powerful indeed, as a result no one spell or magical signature can be easily differentiated from the external wards or the magic performed by professors within the walls of the castle. I am content enough to allow you to use your wand while within the school Harry…"

Harry's smile at this revelation faltered some when the Headmaster suddenly became serious, his eyebrows coming down to form a stern frown on the usually kind face.

"…However, I expect you to only perform spells or enchantments you have already covered in your coursework thus far, and even then, only within the castle walls. You are not to perform any magic outside, in the castle grounds Harry. If you wish to learn or practice new spells or hexes then it shall be with my permission only and under the watchful eye of an adult. Is that clear?"

Harry, having never been on the receiving end of a lecture or warning from the wizard felt both anxious and slightly affronted by it. He had, after all taught his peers all kinds of spells and enchantments while running the D.A, and he hadn't needed any 'adult' supervision then.

"Harry?"

Harry snapped out of his thoughts, feeling colour blossom on his cheeks.

"Yes sir. I understand. No new spells, no magic outside."

Harry internally winced when some of his displeasure came through in his voice. He didn't mean to sound ungrateful for the privilege, but his previous angry swirling thoughts had not completely left him, and standing now before the object of such distress and confusion, he felt them magnified. It was obviously not only he who had noticed his tone.

"Harry, do not read too much into this. I am fully aware of your talents and your…. extra curricula activities of late. I have confidence in your capacity to perform new magic as well as your ability to look after yourself. My point is that, at 15, you should not _have_ to learn new magic unguided and you most certainly should not be looking after yourself, alone. There are times when I forget just how far removed from the wizarding world you have been growing up Harry. You seem to be under the illusion that you are far older than your actual years, and that at 17 you will be an adult wizard who will have finished his education and be expected to…. move on. In the muggle world, and correct me if I'm wrong Harry for your knowledge probably far outweighs mine, is it not normal for a child of 16, 16 being the muggle 'coming of age', to be supported by their parents or guardians for the years that follow? Do they not depend on adults around them to guide them into adulthood? Support them emotionally and financially through further education? Provide a roof over their head and food on their plate? Yes…?"

Harry numbly nodded his head.

"…Why then do you assume that wizarding parents are so much different? We of course live longer than muggles Harry; take myself as a perfect example. It is reasonable to deduce then that our childhood and adolescence last longer than those of muggles. At the tender age of 17 your magic may have matured, it does not mean however that you have. Most young witches and wizards stay with their parents or guardians well into their twenties Harry, depending on them to provide the means, where possible, to continue their education or apprenticeship, as well as the basics they have been accustomed to since birth. Shelter, food and protection. The seasons of a wizards life are longer my boy, each phase lasting twice that of a muggle. At 15, any witch or wizard in our world would think of you as a child. You cannot imagine how incredibly young you must seem to me."

The last was said with a gentle smile and a hand across his hair.

"I realise also that you have…responsibilities that other children your own age do not. You have what can only be described as a unique and individual life Harry. You have had to deal with trials and tribulations that few adults, let alone children have had to bear and we both know that there will be a point in your future, the distant future I hope, where you will face our mutual enemy. These are not normal circumstances, nor is growing up with a family of muggles whose idea of nurture and care would have your parents…"

Harry's throat had closed up minutes before, but now, looking at Dumbledore's face, sad and old and pained, he had to once more focus on his breathing as his chest burned with emotion. Dumbledore was no longer looking at him; instead his eyes were distant and unfocussed as he gazed at some point above Harry's head. The silence was clawing and thick, the sound of Harry's breathing sounding loud to his ears. And then, when it seemed as though the silence was going to suffocate them both, a beautiful sound rang through the air, long and willowy and sweet, filled with happiness and peace. Harry closed his eyes as the burning melted from his chest to be replaced by a warmth spreading down through his limbs, much the same as Dumbledore's unknown spell had done hours before.

Harry opened his eyes to see Fawkes sitting, regal and red, on Dumbledore's arm, both sets of eyes watching him with concern and warmth. If not for the timely intervention of the phoenix's song Harry may have had a hard time speaking let alone smiling, but as it was he found the will to curve his lips in the shadow of a smile towards them both. When Dumbledore again spoke he didn't sound as he did before, his timber instead back to his usual cheery tones.

"Forgive me Harry, I do tend to ramble when I become impassioned about what I speak of. A habit my mother used to chastise me for but which I have yet to shed."

Harry smiled again; relieved to have the conversation steered back to something resembling normal.

"That's ok sir. I guess we can all be guilty of that. And I do see your point, about what you're talking about. I mean I know I've got some stuff still to learn, I mean, loads still to learn and I know I'm not, that is, I'm still a kid. It's just that I'm not used to someone…"

Great, now he was rambling, only not quite so eloquently as Dumbledore had, Harry thought. Dumbledore however was more than happy to fill in the blanks.

"…Taking care of you? Telling you what to do? Imposing restrictions? Providing for you…?"

"…Well, yeah. All of the above I guess. That actually reminds me. Sir, while I really appreciate the gesture, you really shouldn't have bought me all those clothes. You didn't have to buy…"

"Harry, I will not argue this with you."

The words were spoken gently, but there was a definite undertone of exasperation there.

"I am well aware of the fact that I didn't _have_ to buy you anything Harry. As the adult who will be caring for you it is my duty to provide whatever you need, be that clothes or school supplies or money to spend in Honeydukes…."

"But!"

"Ah ah Harry, allow me to finish. I will happily listen to your many complaints when you have heard me out. Now, I realise that you are not comfortable with the entire notion of someone spending a sickle on you let alone a galleon, but remember Harry that it was I who took this responsibility on and I alone. If memory serves, and please do correct me if I am wrong, my memory is unfortunately not what it used to be, I was the one who arranged and informed you that you would be staying here for the duration of the holidays and would be your guardian during this time. Yes?…"

"But I…!"

"Harry please! Answer the question"

Dumbledore's tone was not sharp, just patient and calm as he looked at Harry across the top of his glasses. Harry however was not quite as tranquil as his professor, his face holding twin angry blushes across his cheekbones as he ground out an answer, mentally restraining himself from barking out something else.

"Yes, you did."

" Thank-you. And do you really believe I would do something so grand without having thought it out thoroughly beforehand?"

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he answered.

"No _sir_"

"Harry I am providing you with something that _every_ child should take for granted. It was my decision to make, and it was something I wanted to do. I know you have means to provide for yourself and you have done so admirably so far, but you should never have had to Harry. I am not doing this for you to ease my own conscious, but rather because I _can_. I have the means to provide for you, I can offer you protection and safety and can provide a home, as unusual as that home may be. Please allow me this privilege Harry."

Harry's anger had faded to a mild discomfort, and he now felt uncomfortable and shy. Looking down at his new slippers was easier than looking his professor in the eye. Was he expecting an answer? A wrinkled hand blurred slightly under his nose before he felt his chin being lifted to meet the azure blue of the headmasters twinkling eyes.

"If we must go through these motions every time I wish to provide something for you we may very well miss the entire summer!"

Harry couldn't stop the sardonic smile from forming on his face as he watched the headmaster's moustache and beard quiver as the wizard chuckled. He supposed he did have a point. Harry wasn't sure why he was so determined to fight against that which he had dreamed of getting since he was a small-frightened child locked in a cupboard under the stairs. But apparently Dumbledore did, and his words were like a balm over the scrape that had never healed.

"I am not going anywhere Harry"

Next: The Dursleys, a confrontation and Moody.


	6. Chapter 6

**Reparo**

Rated: PG13 (Angst, maybe a swear word or two)

Spoilers: Some events from OOTP and before. Nothing beyond that.

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me!

**Authors Note**:

Well here it is, chapter 6. I should warn you that it does not hold all that I promised in both my note at the end of the last chapter and my review responses. I have learned a valuable lesson writing this chapter, that being not to promise what i can't deliver. When I started writing this I knew that what I had promised would cover a lot more than one chapter. So you will get what is not in this one in the next. If that made any sense at all, lol. As always, my thanks to those who reviewed. Your support, kind words and encouragements are what drive me to write each new chapter.

Previously on Reparo 

_Harry's anger had faded to a mild discomfort, and he now felt uncomfortable and shy. Looking down at his new slippers was easier than looking his professor in the eye. Was he expecting an answer? A wrinkled hand blurred slightly under his nose before he felt his chin being lifted to meet the azure blue of the headmasters twinkling eyes._

"_If we must go through these motions every time I wish to provide something for you we may very well miss the entire summer!"_

_Harry couldn't stop the sardonic smile from forming on his face as he watched the headmaster's moustache and beard quiver as the wizard chuckled. He supposed he did have a point. Harry wasn't sure why he was so determined to fight against that which he had dreamed of getting since he was a small-frightened child locked in a cupboard under the stairs. But apparently Dumbledore did, and his words were like a balm over the scrape that had never healed._

"_I am not going anywhere Harry"_

Having slept, or napped as his headmaster liked to call it, during the day Harry was still wide awake when the grandfather clock in the sitting room struck one resounding note to signal twelve thirty. Dumbledore had been reading quietly in an armchair in front of the fire most of the evening, and he woke, startled, from a light doze at the sound of the bell, his glasses slipping from the point of his nose to his lap. Harry hid his smile behind the book he had been reading, this one sixth year transfiguration, and only lowered it when he felt his amusement fade. Dumbledore glanced over to him, his own eyes though tired, shining with mirth.

"The hour is late Harry, and while I applaud your efforts to study I think that your mind would benefit more from sleep than trying to process the intricacies of morphing organic energies."

Harry wasn't sure what the precedent was for staying up. At the Dursley's he had kept his own hours, often staying up till the wee hours of the morning and sleeping late the next day. At the time it had served more purpose than simply defying his relatives, for it was the only opportunity he had had to forage food from the kitchens and study his schoolwork in the early years of his adolescence. More recently it had been to avoid his uncle during the day, his sleep, though plagued by horrific nightmares and memories, had kept his relatives from his room until late in the evening when they were too tired to take any notice of him. Now though, living with his professor, he was in unfamiliar territory.

"Uh…it's just, I'm actually not very tired sir. I don't think I would sleep if I went to bed right now."

Dumbledore nodded his head slowly, his brow furrowed as though deep in thought. Then with a sigh and a slight head tilt in each direction, which appeared to Harry to indicate a decision made, he spoke.

"I am keen for you to have routine while you are here my boy, but I understand you may not be tired after napping this afternoon. Perhaps another hour may make a difference hmm? Unfortunately I am an old man who needs his rest and so I shall take my leave. If you require anything, anything at all during the night please seek me out Harry. Oh and if you would be so good as to extinguish the fire before you depart for your bed I would appreciate it. Goodnight m'boy."

Harry whispered the same back and watched as the headmaster toed on his slippers and shuffled into his bedroom, the door closing softly behind him. Well, that hadn't been so hard he mused. Apart from the ticking of the clock, the occasional snap and pop from the burning embers in the fire and the sound of rain smattering against the window, the room was still and quiet. Toeing off his own slippers, Harry brought his legs up to stretch across the sofa and pulled the blanket lying across the back to cover his legs. Rolling onto his side he tucked his head in the crook of his bent arm and finally relaxed. He had felt it a strain this evening, sitting with Dumbledore. The problem was he was completely unsure as to how to act around him in this kind of setting. The wizard _was_ after all his headmaster, _not_ his babysitter. Their interaction had always been based on a teacher/student relationship and though Harry could admit that theirs had been slightly different often through necessity, there had been an almost comfortable uniformity in their contact. There were rules and very definite and clear lines when one was dealing with a Professor while at school. Harry was only now realising that those rules had been replaced by another set, a set he did not know or have any experience with. It had only been one day; really, if he dismissed the night he arrived. He couldn't really remember much from that night now anyway, the memories dreamlike and hazy. And what a day it had been. Harry's face warmed as he remembered his emotional breakdown. Or breakdown's, if he were to be specific. Thinking on it now he felt both foolish and embarrassed. And yet, Harry could not remember the distress and pain without remembering too the comfort and warmth from Dumbledore.

Harry rearranged the blanket so that it now covered his shoulders and huffed out a sigh. Why did his life have to be so bloody complicated, he thought. If it wasn't Voldermort trying to kill him, gigantic snakes and spiders, psychotic teachers, or bloody dementors, he was faced with the rollercoaster that was his emotions.

A memory popped into his head unbidden, one of him screaming at his headmaster that he didn't want to feel, that he didn't want to be human. Harry could see his professor's face in the memory, calm in the face of his fury, sad in response to his pain. Resigned to his task of telling him of the prophe….

Harry violently threw the blanket off and readjusted his position so he was lying on his back, one forearm resting across his eyes. He _would not_ think about that. Not just now. Not tonight. Except he was, and the enormity of his task, of his destiny caused a wave of intense emotion and anxiety to swell within him. Harry sat up and grasped his chest; his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to repress both the haunted words floating across his mind and the choking emotion fighting to be released. For long moments he sat there, not realising that he was rocking slightly, his concentration intense as he replaced the memory with one of comfort. After awhile Harry had a clear picture of flying in his mind, the accompanying feelings of exhilaration and freedom driving his previous thoughts back into the depths from whence they came.

With that thought and those feelings still clear in his mind, and suddenly feeling exhausted, Harry sunk back into the cushions beneath him, his head cushioned by the arm of the overstuffed sofa. As he felt himself teeter between wakefulness and sleep he vaguely thought of the room down the hall, and how it was a shame that he felt too comfortable to attempt to reach it.

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Dumbledore gazed down at the sleeping boy on the sofa, and felt a small smile pull at his lips. He looked so incredibly small curled up as he was, and even more vulnerable. A sigh escaped him. Whatever was he going to do with him? As he stooped low to retrieve the discarded blanket he felt and heard several bones creak in protest. Dumbledore shuffled backwards and folded himself into his chair in front of the fire, adjusting his dressing gown as he did so and rested his chin in the cup of one hand. He couldn't make out the time on the grandfather clock in only the light of the fire, but he assumed it was well after three in the morning. Harry shifting restlessly in his sleep brought his gaze back to the slumbering boy. A small frown creased his forehead he noted, and his hands jerked slightly every few seconds, acting out whatever dreams, or more likely nightmares filled his mind. His glasses, though still perched on his nose, were askew and his cheeks held a rosy red from the heat of the now dying fire.

What a day it had been, he thought with black humour. Emotionally wrenching for them both in different ways.

It was the small things that he noticed most, and having had an opportunity this past evening to subtly observe Harry he felt worse than he had when the boy had been sobbing in his arms, his hands clutching his robes unconsciously as though he might disappear. It was in the way he sat, tense and aware, as though waiting for something to happen. The way he looked surprised when he had held a cup of hot chocolate under his nose while he had been reading, his eyes giving away his shock at being offered something freely, obviously unused to receiving anything from those muggle relatives of his. It was in the way he made himself as small and invisible as possible while sitting in his company, only speaking when spoken to and trying very hard not to draw attention to himself. While it was clear the poor boy was adjusting to a change in living arrangements and adult supervision,_and_ dealing with what had transpired in the past three weeks, it remained clear that those small reflexes and giveaways were borne from a life of neglect and abuse.

And yet, if he had a chance to turn back time he had to admit to himself that he would not change his decision to leave Harry on the Dursley's doorstep. And that was a hard pill to swallow. For he knew that it was due only to the protection at that infernal house that Harry was alive today. If not for it, Voldermort would undoubtedly have found a way to end his life in recent years, if his followers had not already done so to win favour of course. Dumbledore's hands formed fists as he thought of the Dursley's and he purposefully relaxed them and attempted to clear his mind. Tomorrow, or rather today he amended, he would go to Privet Drive and retrieve Harry's belongings, and take the opportunity to confront the damnable muggles for their treatment of their nephew.

As for Harry? Well he would give him what he should have been getting from the time he had lost James and Lilly, he thought. Love, patience, discipline, guidance and understanding. Everything else he was sure would work itself out eventually given time. He had no doubt that it would prove a learning experience for them both, and too that Harry would need to be dragged kicking and screaming to the realisation that he was indeed a child who was not only entitled to love but should expect it from those who watched over him.

Sighing greatly, Dumbledore stood slowly, taking time to stretch tired muscles and bones and shuffled over to where Harry slept, completely unaware of his headmasters presence. Mindful of the boy's mental state, the professor very softly carded a hand across the boy's hair while calling his name. He smiled in amusement when Harry shifted slightly and brought a hand up to shoo away the perceived irritation, all the while groaning slightly at the back of his throat. Dumbledore deftly avoided the disjointed movements and laid a hand instead on Harry's shoulder, shaking him slightly. When he felt Harry stiffen, eyes still shut he removed his hand and in a low and what he hoped was soothing tone, reassured the tense boy as to where he was.

"Harry, m'boy, you are at Hogwarts and are perfectly safe, albeit probably less than comfortable. I need you to get up, only for a moment and then you can go back to sleep."

He watched as his student opened bleary eyes, his gaze seeking him out, and felt immeasurably reassured when, after apparently confirming his identity, the boy visibly relaxed his previously alert muscles.

"Sir?"

His voice was rough and dry sounding, probably from sleeping within reach of the heat from the fire for several hours, but Dumbledore assessed he was alert enough to accomplish his task.

"Come Harry, it is late and I am sure your back will thank you better for the comfort of a mattress rather than my lumpy settee."

He held out a hand to the boy and again felt a small tingle of relief and pleasure when Harry unhesitantly took it, allowing him to be pulled to his feet. Dumbledore wrapped an arm around the sleepy boys shoulders and guided him across the sitting room, down the hall and into the bedroom he had yet to sleep in. With a wave of his hand the heavy bedcovers folded back to reveal burgundy sheets and he pushed the semi-aware boy to sit at the edge. Harry did not need anymore encouragement it seemed, as he almost immediately fell sideways, his head finding the pillow and not one second later had again closed his eyes, his breathing steady and deepening. Dumbledore exhaled a small burst of air in amusement and leant over to pull the covers up and over him before turning to again find his own bed. He had a lot to accomplish tomorrow, he thought. It was wise to catch sleep while he could.

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It was at the sprightly hour of six am when Dumbledore apparated soundlessly into the quiet of Privet Drive. Despite the early hour the sun was already above the roofs at the far end of the street, and as the headmaster stood orientating himself he could feel the first flush of English summer warmth on his face. Number four looked for all the world like a quintessential English muggle home, complete with white picket fence, driveway and perfectly tended lawn. The summer blush of flora and fauna finished the look, though it appeared the Dursley's were more conservative in their choices of flowers than some of their neighbours, who had allowed lush ivy to grow against the brickwork that made up the front of each house. As Dumbledore casually walked towards Harry's former home he felt the sweep of the protective wards as he passed through them and paused. He did not hesitate in retrieving his wand from his robes. At the exact instant that he had reformed from apparation he had cast disillusionment and notice-me-not charms, effectively making himself invisible to not only the muggle population but also any dark wizards who were ambitious enough to be present and watchful at this time of the day. Holding his wand in his right hand he swept it in an elaborate arm above him, as he had done on many occasions. He knew the wards had been weakened by the events of two days past, but he was shocked when the readings that appeared in front of him evidenced the extent. Apparently Harry's absence had added to their disintegration, and Dumbledore knew that it would only be a matter of days before they failed completely. Dismissing the arthimantic display in front of him with a wave of his hand he continued his stroll towards the Dursley's, his mind churning with questions and conclusions.

From the state of the wards he knew at least two things that would be sure to happen in the weeks to follow. One, at the wards failure Voldermort would send his most lethal death eaters to retrieve the-boy-who-lived, if not in person. Two, on discovering his absence, the Dursley's would be tortured for information and then murdered, the dark mark serving as a gruesome tombstone. Then there were the repercussions, when Voldermort would undoubtedly surmise that Harry was locked away behind the safety of Hogwarts wards. The dark lord would step up his attempts to reach Harry within the school, using whatever, and whoever in his efforts. Dumbledore spared a thought for Severus and wondered if the time had come when Tom would ask him to perform his ultimate service, murdering not only he, but Harry too. So much worry, so many dilemmas, he thought. They would have to wait until he had first accomplished this task he decided. He was only one wizard after all, and he had resolved many years ago that in order to accomplish anything, one had to take it in reasonable steps.

When Dumbledore came back to himself he found he was standing at the front door of number four, complete with letterbox, bell and shiny metal nameplate. With a slight gesture the door clicked and swung open soundlessly, allowing him to cross the threshold unencumbered. Once inside, and with the door closed and magically sealed closed behind him, he took a moment to listen for any signs of life within the walls. A staggered rumble was coming from upstairs, no doubt issuing from Vernon Dursley's nasal passage, but apart from that the house was quiet, except of course for the general hum of electricity one found in nearly every muggle home. Dumbledore dismissed his previous invisibility charms, applied a wandless cushioning charm to his feet and walked down the short hall and through the door that opened into the sitting room. He was immediately assaulted by images of Dudley Dursley, in every conceivable pose and at every possible age. From the huge family portrait that hung above the fireplace to the small-framed professional photos that surrounded it, there didn't appear to be one space on the walls to show the obviously expensive wallpaper. The sofa's and chairs appeared new, he thought, as too did the throw cushions carefully arranged in diamonds across them. Dumbledore crossed the small room and sat in the only single chair pulling his wand out in the process. When he had calmed his mind and felt comfortable, he flicked his wrist, murmuring a silencing charm that would encompass the whole house. That done, he took a deep breath, held it, and on its release flicked his wand again and listened in satisfaction as every door in the Dursley residence opened and closed repeatedly and with force.

There were other noises above the din of slamming doors in short order. The headmaster tilted his head and listened carefully. A shouted curse and, seconds later, a massive thump that shook the ceiling above him indicated Vernon's wakefulness. A high-pitched scream was easily matched with Petunia and the heavy footfalls of someone running down the hall could only belong to the youngest of the brood, Dudley. Dumbledore didn't wait long for company after he had cancelled the spell. A heavy march sounded as Vernon lumbered down the stairs, shouting obscenities that made the headmaster glad for the silencing spell.

When Vernon Dursley banged his way into the sitting room, his face purple and chest heaving, with Petunia at his heels, Dumbledore stood. There was silence for endless moments, eerie after the racket from minutes before, as the two stood gaping at him. When Dumbledore again had control of his temper, which had risen at seeing the pathetic excuse for a human being known as Harry's uncle, he addressed the still shocked pair.

"Good Morning. I am Albus Dumbledore, Harry's headmaster. I _am_ terribly sorry for the rude awakening but you see I have _important_ things to do today and time is of the essence. I'm sure you understand."

For a moment Dumbledore was sure that Vernon Dursley was going to combust judging by the alarming colours he was turning. Before the man could do or say anything though, a chubby frightened face appeared at his arm, trying desperately it would seem, despite the fear, to catch a glimpse of the intruder. Dumbledore matched the face to those in the many pictures scattered around the room.

"Ahh, young Dursley I presume. I think it would be wise for you to go back to your bedroom for the duration. Your parents and I have a few things to discuss."

"Don't you _dare_ speak to my son!"

Dumbledore turned to gaze at Petunia, his voice turning hard as his temper again flared.

"I had thought to include your son in our discussions Petunia, given his behaviour towards Harry. But ultimately he is merely a victim of his upbringing. And of course his parents…."

Dumbledore sensed Vernon's attack before he even launched it. The huge bulk of a man had only taken two steps in his direction when he was suddenly hovering a few inches above the thick piled carpet, his eyes wide and scared. Dumbledore moved his wand in the direction of the nearest sofa and Vernon found himself moving through the air before he was deposited with such force that it made his teeth rattle.

"I suggest, Mr Dursley that you remain where you are. Trust me when I say that in this case appearances are deceiving, and I am more than capable of defending myself from an attack by the likes of you."

When Vernon appeared to heed the warning Dumbledore pocketed his wand again and turned back to Petunia, who was clutching her mouth and had turned chalk-white, and Dudley, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide behind his mother. Dumbledore again addressed the teenager; his gaze hard as he lowered his chin and caught his eyes across the tops of his glasses.

"I believe I asked you to go to your room Dudley. If you are incapable of performing such a simple task perhaps I could be of assistance?"

No sooner had the deceptively soft words left his mouth than the boy was racing up the stairs, the slam of a door indicting his obedience.

Petunia, he noted, had not moved a muscle, though her eyes blazed with anger when he met her glare with one of his own.

"I truly do not understand you Petunia. I have tried, for many years, to wrap my mind around your behaviour, to try to put myself in your shoes but I have never succeeded in working it out. When I left Harry on your doorstep I did not hesitate, for I knew that you had already been blessed with a son of your own and by all accounts you were a loving and doting mother. What mother, I thought, could harm or mistreat a baby?"

Dumbledore stopped and swallowed. His eyes prickled with moisture as he ground the rest of the words out, his own emotion strong as he thought of the teenager asleep in his suite, plagued by nightmares of not only Tom Riddle and his ilk, but also of the two muggles before him.

"How wrong I was. For it seemed that you chose to associate everything that you loathed with the defenceless child left to your tender mercies. Your sister was a witch Petunia and a fine one at that. She fought a battle you knew nothing about in order to save the lives of people exactly like you. She gave her very life to save that of her sons. You blamed your hostility and hate on the fact she possessed magic but that was never the truth was it Petunia? The truth was, you were jealous of not only her abilities, but of the attention she received from your parents…"

"That is a lie! If you think for one moment that I wanted to be anything like her…."

"…Lie to me if you wish Petunia but it is far past the time to be lying to yourself. Whatever your feelings it should never, _never_ have affected the way you treated your nephew. And I can say with confidence that had the situations been reversed Lilly and James Potter would have taken Dudley as their own son and treated him accordingly. Instead, you made Harry suffer for your insecurities through abuse and neglect. You took a baby who had grown with love and safety and turned him into a boy who does not see himself as worthy of love, but who desires affection and comfort badly. A boy who neither expects nor requests _anything_ from any adult, for he learned that asking only brings pain and punishment. A boy who's confidence in himself is non-existent, for he has always been told that he was worth less than nothing and that nothing would ever come of him."

There was no response to this, but Dumbledore could see a shadow in both sets of eyes. Suddenly feeling exhausted rather than angry, he sadly shook his head, knowing that his words, impassioned as they were, were not going to change the past. A spluttering from the sofa brought his gaze up.

"Now see here. We raised that boy with no help from your kind, none at all! Not one bloody penny towards his upkeep! He had clothes and food and a roof over his head thanks to us and nobody else! He's a trouble maker _and_ a compulsive liar and its obvious he's come running to you with his stories and lies because no-one else will pay him any heed, knowing him as they do. So don't you come into my home and bloody lecture us…."

"_Silencio_"

Petunia's gasp was loud in the sudden silence as she watched her husband impersonate a fish out of water.

"What have you done!"

Dumbledore winced at the shrill tone and briefly considered sending a silencing spell in her direction too.

"Your husband should consider himself lucky that that is the only spell directed his way after his attack upon Harry. Believe me when I say that there are a queue of powerful wizards begging my permission to see to this family personally."

Petunia, who had regained colour whilst angry suddenly became ghost white again and Dumbledore noted that Vernon had just as suddenly ceased his attempts to form words, snapping his jaws closed with an audible crunch.

"As it stands I am not a violent man. I do not believe that violence is the answer to violence. Moreover, it is not my place but rather James and Lilly's to exact revenge if they so wish."

"Re.Revenge?"

Dumbledore felt a dark satisfaction as he watched fear flicker across both the faces now following his every move.

"Ah yes, of course, please forgive me. I often forget that we wizards are privy to facts not yet known to muggles such as you. For instance, the reality of the afterlife is still held in dubiety by most muggles is it not? It may comfort you to know that it is indeed true, and that any loved ones you have lost in this life are waiting just beyond. Harry, in fact, has already had a visit from his parents. Yes, if I remember correctly they were protecting him still, only on this occasion from the afterlife, obviously. I am sure that when the time comes for you both, you will have the opportunity to meet them again at any rate."

Dumbledore did not wait for a response but rather left the two stunned muggles to their dark thoughts and walked back into the hall, pulling his wand as he did so.

"_Accio_ Harry's Possessions"

There was a loud thump as the requested items battered against the wood of the door under the stairs. Dumbledore walked a few steps until he faced the cupboard and waved a hand, completely banishing the brass lock. Harry's trunk did not need any more encouragement and, still surrounded by the headmasters magic, sailed out the open door and settled at the professor's feet, followed by Hedwig's empty cage, the bird having been left at the owlerly before the end of term. After a brief examination of the contents, Dumbledore was satisfied and walked back into the sitting room, not surprised to find both Dursley's in the same position as he had left them. Petunia had the remains of a few tears streaked down her pale cheeks, and she was gripping her dressing gown tightly around her, as though trying to soak in some comfort from the artificial embrace. Vernon was looking peaky too; a fine sheen of sweat across his brow as he repeatedly tensed then relaxed the muscles in his jaw. Dumbledore couldn't find it within himself to feel the least bit guilty.

"There is one more subject I wish to address before I take my leave. Voldermort, the dark wizard who killed your sister and who has been attempting to take your nephews life these past five years will soon be able to enter this house now that Harry is no longer resident. My suggestion would be to seek accommodation elsewhere as quickly as possible, my estimate may be slightly off but I believe you have a few days before the wards holding him back fail completely. When the dark lord finds the house abandoned he may continue to search for you so my advice would be to tell no one of the move or your new address. This wizard would not think twice before killing both you and your son."

The Dursley's were looking at him as though he had spoken elvish, both wearing expressions of disbelief and confusion. Well, he had informed them of the danger, there was nothing else he could do, or if he were honest with himself, wanted to do.

"I think it goes without saying that Harry shall not be returning to your…care. I have taken upon myself to step into the role of caregiver for the remainder of his adolescence, not that it should interest you of course. Please take my warning regarding Voldermort seriously. I do not wish your deaths to be on Harry's conscious; Merlin knows the poor boy carries enough unnecessary guilt. Goodbye"

Not waiting for a response, Dumbledore strode for the door, motioning for the trunk and cage that sat in the hall to follow him. Before leaving he recast his previous spells on both himself and Harry's possessions and motioned for the door to open, never so glad to leave a house in his life.

Next: Moody arrives (take 2, lol) Harry's temper flares, Dumbledore reacts (or acts, as the case may be).


	7. Chapter 7

**Reparo**

Rated: PG13 (Angst, maybe a swear word or two)

Spoilers: Some events from OOTP and before. Nothing beyond that.

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me!

**Authors Note**:

Another month, another chapter. At long last! My apologies for the delay but RL has been a (insert preferred nasty word here) and I just haven't had the time I would have liked to concentrate on this. Lots of angst in this chapter, just to warn you in case you don't like that sort of thing. As always a heartfelt thank-you to those who are continuing to read this story, and extra thanks to those who took the time to review. Your kind words and encouragements are the only reason this chapter even exists, so thanks. The next chapter should be finished soon and hopefully you won't have quite the wait you had for this one. A few words on your thoughts on this chapter would be greatly appreciated.

Previously on Reparo:

"_I think it goes without saying that Harry shall not be returning to your…care. I have taken upon myself to step into the role of caregiver for the remainder of his adolescence, not that it should interest you of course. Please take my warning regarding Voldermort seriously. I do not wish your deaths to be on Harry's conscious; Merlin knows the poor boy carries enough unnecessary guilt. Goodbye"_

_Not waiting for a response, Dumbledore strode for the door, motioning for the trunk and cage that sat in the hall to follow him. Before leaving he recast his previous spells on both himself and Harry's possessions and motioned for the door to open, never so glad to leave a house in his life._

"No!"

Harry awoke with a gasp, his plaintive cry still buzzing in his ears as he sat up and looked around him, his blurry vision taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Automatically reaching for his glasses he slipped them on, his breath still loud in his ears, and looked around him again, his previous anxiety fading somewhat when he recognised the dark furniture and burgundy drapes. When recognition dawned Harry slumped against the pillows at his back and ran a still shaky hand across his face, his eyes closing as he tried to remember what nightmare had woken him so violently. But already the dreamscape was fading into oblivion leaving behind only the dull sense of dread and fear he was only too familiar with. Harry was at least grateful to realise that it had only been the product of his twisted subconscious rather than an insight into Voldermort's current activities, as his dormant scar attested.

Sitting up and swinging his legs to dangle at the side of the high bed, Harry grimaced slightly when his pyjamas pulled on his still damp skin, the sweat, cooling in the chilly Hogwarts morning air producing another shiver. Now more cognizant, he looked again at the room and wondered how he had gotten there. He certainly didn't remember seeking his own room the night before, indeed, he recalled quite clearly his being on the sofa in the sitting room in front of the dying fire, and his subsequent panic.

Harry became even further confused when, there, sitting at the end of his bed as though it had been there all along was his school trunk. There was really no mistaking it. Harry would recognise his trunk from fifty paces, it having been one of the first possessions he could truly call his own.

Standing, his previous discomfort forgotten, he quickly made his way around his bed and knelt in front of the brown leather case, his fingers finding they're way to the top where they traced the Hogwarts emblem. His mind flashed back momentarily to the last time he saw the trunk, in his bedroom at the Dursley's. It was hard to believe that it had been only two days prior. As he thought about it, the incident that had led him to this point seemed much further in his past which, he reasoned, was understandable considering the sheer emotional upheaval he had experienced in the days that followed. The memory itself he was surprised to realise didn't send him into spasms of tremors as it had previously, nor did it affect a cold sweat across his back. What did make him hesitate was the thought of what he had encountered when he last opened the lid. Had the shards of glass been scattered when he overturned the heavy case? Harry wasn't sure what he feared most, finding the broken pieces of Sirius' mirror or finding them missing.

Either way his previous calm evaporated in a swell of mixed emotion. Rubbing his damp palms across the material of his pyjama trousers in a shaky pattern, he considered what to do. Finally reasoning that not knowing would be worse he inhaled a lungful of crisp air and reached for the shiny metal buckle, and paused. What if this was some kind of trick? Another portkey designed to take him to…but no, he thought. Surely nothing that could endanger him would make its way to _Dumbledore's_ private residence? The Headmaster himself had reassured him that he would be safe while staying there after all. He was just being paranoid. Despite all his self-assurance he still held his breath when his hand reached for the first buckle, and he visibly slumped when nothing untoward happened upon his touch. His previous excitement at seeing the trunk had long since been buried under the weight of his considerations and so it was with slow and measured movements that he undid the slightly worn leather straps. When the last strap fell away his hands hovered unmoving at the lids rim.

Heaving a great sigh and cursing his conspicuously absent Gryffindor courage, he hoisted the lid upwards and let it fall back to rest at the edge of his bed. His first impression was that someone other than the Dursley's had obviously re-packed his possessions. His clothes and school robes lay atop, carefully folded and arranged. When he lifted the tidy bundle and laid them to the side he next saw his schoolbooks, neatly packed against one side of the case, the smallest notebooks at the top. On the other side his small amount of personal possessions lay atop his wash bag. But there was no glittering shards among them, no sharp edges or skewered reflections he immediately noticed. Harry felt his chest tighten as he began to rummage with a little less care than before, knocking the small pile of books over in the process. It _had_ to be there, he thought desperately. When his search revealed nothing more, Harry turned his attention to the clothes piled at his side. With panicked motions he began to shake each item in turn, his breathing becoming harsher as the folded items neared an end. When the last t-shirt was clutched in his hands, revealing nothing but the distinctive scent of a cleaning charm, Harry surveyed the mess around him through a mist of moisture. It was gone. Sirius' mirror was gone. Twisting the material in his grasp, Harry forced his mind to calm enough for him to think straight. Trunk, Dumbledore's rooms, packed and cleaned…His professor must have retrieved his belongings; perhaps he had taken the mirror! With a sudden sense of hopefulness and clarity Harry about turned and ran for the door, opening it to reveal the corridor he now knew. Not pausing this time to orientate himself Harry ran the short distance to the sitting room door and pushed it open, his eyes wild as he scanned the room looking for any sign of his headmaster. But the room lay quiet and unoccupied, the only life being that of the low burning fire in the hearth. Running a hand through his hair, Harry turned and walked quickly back into the hallway, his eyes scanning each doorway. Without over thinking it he swiftly made his way to the door at the end of the corridor and yanked it open, not registering the slightly affronted portrait on the other side. When he stepped over the threshold he immediately recognised the office and paused, his eyes searching below for his Professor.

"Harry?"

Harry ran down the stairs and almost collided with his Professor, him having come around the staircase from the other side. He steadied himself on the banister and gazed up at the intense blue of the headmaster's eyes, forcing himself to gasp a great breath before asking the question burning behind his tongue.

"Whatever is the matter my boy?"

Harry unconsciously shrugged off the large hand that tried to settle on his shoulder. When he spoke his voice, even to his own ears, sounded strained and desperate.

"My trunk, did you, I need to know if you took anything, if you got my trunk for me I mean, did you take anything from it?"

When Dumbledore only frowned deeply in silence and again tried to rest a hand, this time around his upper arm, Harry became irritated.

"No! Please, I need to know did you leave anything behind? In my bedroom was there anything…was everything put in my trunk?"

Dumbledore made no move to touch Harry when he carefully responded, but Harry could see the confusion and concern clearly in his eyes.

"Perhaps if you told me what it is you seem to be missing Harry…"

Harry, breathing fast, struggled to form the words. It was almost as though saying what was missing would somehow cement the fact that it truly was.

"Sirius, before he, I mean when he was, he gave me something. A mirror, it was a mirror. But it smashed and I never spoke to him but I kept it and it was in my trunk but I threw it. And, and…"

"I have your broken mirror Harry. Perhaps not all of it but I took what had been thrown into your trunk, it is perfectly safe. I thought perhaps your relatives had broken it when they packed away your things and that a simple reparo would set it right. I did not want to leave the broken pieces amongst your clothes however, in case of an accident, and I did not have time to check if all the pieces were there to perform the spell so I packed them away in a small box in my study meaning to get to them at a later time."

Harry felt as though he had been pulled too tight in opposite directions then suddenly released. His body sagged and drooped with relief, so much so that he was forced to steady himself on the banister again.

"I am terribly sorry to have caused you such panic my boy. Had I known how precious it was to you I would have delivered it to you personally and without delay."

Harry's tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth as he tried both to form a response and pull himself together.

"It's ok, em, I mean, I didn't expect you to know or anything. It's safe that's all that matters really right? And thanks for getting my stuff…"

Harry paused, his skin pulling slightly around his scar as he frowned. Dumbledore had collected his trunk. His trunk had been at the…. Oh sweet Merlin.

"You went to the Dursley's?"

This time Harry did not shrug off the warm hand that first ran across his hair in what was becoming a familiar comforting gesture before coming to land heavily on his shoulder.

"Perhaps some tea Harry? All this excitement at such an early hour without at least a cup of tea would not be considered sensible or healthy. Come sit with me."

Harry allowed himself to be guided to one of two comfy chintz armchairs facing each other across a low table in front of the magnificent fireplace that filled this section of the wall. The very fact that he was sitting in the office that had filled him with such trepidation only days before had not registered in the midst of his most recent scare.

Harry sat down and pulled his legs up and under him, only now noticing that he had nothing on his feet. A tea set popped into existence on the low table before him and Dumbledore settled himself into the seat opposite after pouring and handing him a large mug of steaming hot tea. Harry wrapped cold hands around the warm ceramic and breathed in the scent of what he thought was camomile and honey. As the heat soaked into his skin Harry felt the last grasp of his panic fade, his shoulders marginally sinking, but was left with what was becoming a now permanent feeling of anxiety. He looked up when Dumbledore's soft and gravely tones sounded from across the table.

"I did indeed visit your relatives this morning Harry. I had intended to have this conversation with you in a much more relaxed atmosphere, perhaps over breakfast. I'm sorry your day began with such worry my boy, as I've said had I known…"

"It's ok. Really. I guess I overreacted when it wasn't in my trunk…"

Dumbledore leant forward in his seat, his own hands wrapped around the delicate teacup held between them as he interrupted.

"It was not an overreaction Harry, only a reaction, and a perfectly understandable one at that. Do not make excuses for it please, it's perfectly healthy not to mention cathartic to allow vent to your feelings. Do you understand?"

Harry felt uncomfortably exposed and vulnerable talking about this and so he only nodded his head in response, thinking there had been far too much emotion these past few days for anyone's liking, especially his. Thankfully it seemed his Professor was happy to leave it at that or, Harry thought, he had picked up on some of what he had been thinking and agreed with him. Either way Harry breathed a quick sigh of relief and moved to change the subject.

"Thanks for getting my trunk sir. I wasn't sure when I would see it again, or if Uncle Vernon had gotten a hold of it, _if_ I would see it again. And I have homework to do before the start of term."

"Yes, well, I'm sure your teachers and particularly your headmaster would be understanding if your assignments were perhaps a few days late considering the circumstances Harry. As it is you now have plenty of time for that and more."

When Harry looked up he was glad to see the twinkle back in his Professor's eyes. It was almost enough to put him off asking his next question, for fear of watching it fade.

"Were the Dursley's…."

He wasn't sure exactly what to ask. Were they there? How did they react? Had Dumbledore aid anything? Done anything?

"We had a brief chat, yes. As you can no doubt imagine they weren't best pleased that I had dropped in unannounced but the conversation was a civil one. I have informed them that you will not be returning to their home from now on Harry, rather you will be living at school year round, under my care."

Harry swallowed a large mouthful of the soothing tea to give him a chance to think that over. A civil conversation? Who was the headmaster trying to kid? He had never heard a civil word directed towards him from the Dursley's in all the time he had known them and he most certainly hadn't heard anything approaching civility on the few occasions when the wizarding world was discussed. He could well imagine the reaction to having Albus Dumbledore of all people suddenly appear in their living room. Uncle Vernon would have turned that ugly shade of purple he often did and would not have thought twice about giving voice to his anger. Aunt Petunia on the other hand, well, she was actually more worrisome than his uncle in some respects. She would not have yelled and screamed like her husband, rather Harry could imagine her sneering and cold, looking down her nose at the wizard she knew from days gone past. Her words when she spoke them would have been jagged and cruel and he could only imagine what fabricated evil deeds and transgressions he had supposedly done in his time there she had spoken of.

A warmth not due to the steam rising from the mug spread across his cheeks.

"There is however another matter I wished to discuss with you Harry. As I said yesterday, the blood wards around your aunt's house that had been protecting you have begun to deteriorate. While there this morning I was finally able to determine just how bad the damage was and unfortunately the wards are much more dire than I had first thought Harry, so much so in fact that I have advised your relatives to seek accommodation elsewhere with all due haste. I am not an expert in these things of course, but I estimate that they will completely fail within a few days, possibly a week without you there. I believe your relatives took my warning and advice seriously Harry, and hope that as we speak they are packing their belongings and making arrangements. Voldermort, though weakened, will know the precise second he is able to pass freely and will make arrangements to do so. Whether he will risk a battle he is, at the moment, ill prepared for I do not know, but either way he will send his people to find you if not in person. For all the Dursley's have done, I know that deep down you would not wish their deaths Harry."

The rosy blush that had appeared just moments before had drained from his face along with the rest of his colour. In a rushed and panicked thought Harry wondered if this was what the rest of his life would be like, each day filled with conversations of death and destruction, emotions rocketing off the chart at a moments notice, anxiety and fear crushing any hope of feelings of happiness or joy. When he tried to place his near empty cup back on the table his hand shook so badly that the little tea left slopped over the rim, the liquid finding its way over his hand and brushed cotton sleeve to splash against the tea tray.

Harry stood and tried to mop up the mess with his already wet sleeve.

"I'm sorry…."

An unexpectedly firm hand wrapped around the span of his wrist, halting his movements. He turned to face his Professor when his arm was pulled.

"Harry stop. Tell me what your feeling."

Harry felt an absurd desire to wrap a hand in the pale blue robe Dumbledore was wearing and not to let go, but he didn't think that was what his headmaster meant him to say.

"I just want to wake up one day and not have to feel…I don't want to be…I'm not supposed to be…"

Harry could feel the word lodged in his throat. And behind it the swell of shame he had often felt before.

"Say it Harry."

Harry looked away from the eyes trained on his face and focussed instead on the blue of the robe in front of him. When at last he said what was now choking him it came out in a whisper.

"Scared. I don't want to be scared anymore."

When the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist pulled him closer Harry didn't need further encouragement. Taking the last step he pressed his pale cheek against the broad chest and wrapped an arm around behind his professors back, the hand grasping a fold of blue material at last. Nothing was said as Harry felt two arms come round to lock him into the embrace. After a few moments Harry felt the first stirrings of shame and embarrassment and reluctantly tried to pull away, but he found that both arms across his back were unmoving and solid and so he stilled.

"My dear boy. We all of us feel fear, each and every witch and wizard, boy and girl, animal and even plant. It is yet another emotion we must learn to live with and understand. Your being scared Harry is not something to be ashamed of and no one, _no one_ expects you to feel otherwise. I will not tell you that there is nothing to fear for I know you have experienced and seen what horrors our world is capable of. But your fear has a place; there is a time to feel it. When you are alone and without hope, then you may feel fear for it will drive you to a solution or to you're very best, thus helping you. But you are not alone Harry, you have a family who will protect you and help you when the time comes. When you have grown and matured and are ready to face your destiny, there will be a small army of wizards and witches who will share your burden for their own reasons. And afterwards you will live out your life a strong and happy wizard, with a family of your own to protect and love. For now though young Harry, you must trust in me to protect you, as you will protect yours in times to come, and trust that I will provide a safe and happy home for you as best I can. You have not had a figure in your life that has been able or willing to carry out their promises, so I can understand your feelings Harry. All I ask is that you give me a chance to try."

Harry could not speak, only nod against the soft fabric his face was pressed into and tighten his hold slightly. The pressure was returned for a moment before he felt the arms around him gentle then fall away, a hand coming up to card threw his hair.

Harry pulled away from the comfort of the embrace without resistance and looked up at the soft gaze and gentle smiling face of his…. guardian? That sounded much too familiar and peculiar.

"I'll try sir"

Dumbledore only nodded his head in acknowledgement, before changing the subject completely, as was his way.

"My goodness, look at the time! Half past eight already, where _does_ the time go?"

When Dumbledore looked expectantly at Harry across the tops of his half moon glasses Harry stuttered.

"Ummm…. Well sir I'm not exactly sure."

Dumbledore only nodded sagely, his eyes twinkling like mad behind the glass of his spectacles.

"A lesson for another time perhaps Harry. For now young man I suggest you run upstairs and wash and dress. Our first order member is arriving this morning and I promised him breakfast would be served in the great hall. I'm meeting him at the gates at nine and if I know him at all we will be sitting at a table a five past. It would be best if you meet us there Harry."

Harry wasn't sure he was up to company. It had been another exhausting start, between the nightmare, trunk, mirror and heart-to-heart and all before half past eight in morning, Harry felt ready to spend time in his own company thinking it all through. But he didn't want to argue with his Professor nor did he feel like listening to another chat on what was best for him.

"Yes sir."

Harry felt as though he should say something but he wasn't sure exactly what. His thanks would probably lead to another chat on responsibilities and duty and an apology would no doubt land him a verbal slap on the ear. His hesitance must have shown for in the next moment his Professor was speaking again.

"When we come back from breakfast we'll see to getting your mirror back where it belongs Harry. Unfortunately I must pay the ministry a visit for most of the afternoon but we will have time before I go to plan what is left of our summer holiday. I'm not promising that we will be able to do everything that you may wish to, under the circumstances you understand, but we may be able to achieve one or two excursions."

Excursions? Harry thought. Did he mean days out? Trips? Visits to people or places that _he_ wanted to see?

"Now I really must be going Harry. I want to make sure that Hagrid's hut is prepared before our visitor arrives. Will you be ok?"

Harry shook off his astonishment and nodded, before turning and padding over the stone floor towards the stairs that he now knew led to Dumbledore's living space. His many questions would need to keep until after breakfast.

Harry arrived at the great hall to find it empty and quiet. One of the house tables had been set up for breakfast at the end nearest the staff table Harry saw so he made him way slowly towards it, running the tips of his fingers along the shiny old wood as he went. When he reached the end he saw that four place settings had been arranged, with two on one side and one on the other, and the final set at the tables end, facing the massive double doors. Harry wondered for a moment whom else would be joining his Professor and he. Most of the order members he knew to be professors at the school or aurors. A surge of excited hopefulness ran through Harry, perhaps Remus was the member Dumbledore was meeting! Deciding not to think on it further, so as not to be too disappointed if it proved not the case, Harry sat on the side of the table with the single place setting. He assumed Dumbledore would be sat beside him, and he would be better able to see the others, whoever they turned out to be.

Just as he was settling himself the heavy main doors opened with a groan audible in the unusually quiet hall. Despite his earlier actions, Harry still felt a rush of disappointment when he identified the unmistakable appearance and gait of the ex-auror Alastor Moody. Both he and Dumbledore were engaged in quiet conversation as they made they're way towards the table and as they reached his hearing range they, Harry noted irritably, stopped speaking all together. It wasn't quiet for long however.

"Ah Harry. Got the run of the place have you?"

Harry merely nodded his head in acknowledgment of the gruffly asked question, his earlier disappointment still swirling within his chest.

"Well, be sure to keep your nose outta trouble lad. Merlin knows there's plenty of that to be had in this place."

Before Harry had a chance to voice what would probably have been an irritated response, Dumbledore clapped his hands and an assortment of breakfast foods appeared before them, as well as sparkling white plates, napkins and drinks. For him a glass of pumpkin juice Harry noted, and for the adults a pot of tea stood steaming in the midst of the trays heavily laden with Hogwarts typical fare.

"Tuck in Harry."

Dumbledore did indeed sit at the head of the table and Alastor wasted no time sitting across from him. His Professor took his own advice and began to fill his plate with toast and scrambled eggs, before he poured tea for himself and Mad-eye.

Harry picked up a piece of toast and buttered it with jam, his appetite having faded with his earlier hopefulness. It wasn't that he had any ill feeling towards the ex-auror. Despite the goings on with the tri-wizard tournament, which he knew not be any fault of the man facing him, he genuinely respected the wizard and thought him firmly in the ranks of the light. But he wasn't Remus.

"So Harry, how's it feel to be free of the Dursley's. I tell ya if I had had my way the basta…"

"Alastor…"

Harry looked between the two wizards. Dumbledore looked annoyed, well as annoyed as Dumbledore ever looked and Moody was grumbling under his breath words, which would no doubt have made a death-eater blush had they been discernable.

Another rush of annoyance and anger fired through Harry though he tried very hard not to let it show. He wasn't quite sure where the anger was coming from. Perhaps it had been the pretty lousy morning he had had so far but as the silence ticked on his want to be alone became more desperate.

Dumbledore asked Moody something that Harry hadn't caught and they began to talk about someone he didn't know, all previous awkwardness gone. Harry nibbled his toast in a distracted kind of way, his thoughts turned inwards. His irritation grew as the wizards continued to chat, though he really wasn't sure where his foul mood had sprung from. Just as he was about to ask to be excused a side door in the hall opened, just beside the points counters and Sybill Trelawney appeared in a whirl of floaty shawls and colour. She seemed to peer around the hall for a few seconds, her eyes huge behind her bottle like glasses before she made her way towards them.

"Sybill! A vision as always lass!"

If Harry were surprised by mad-eye's greeting he didn't show it. In fact he displayed no emotion whatsoever as he sat, still and pale. Harry's thoughts had snapped to the image of his divination professor, voice hoarse and deep as she repeated the prophecy over and over. He couldn't seem to make it stop, the voice inside his head so very different to the airy tones he heard in the classroom. The words that he had deliberately put out of his mind meshed together, till only one sentence was left, 'Neither can live while the other survives' 'Neither can live while the other survives' 'Neither can liv…'

"Harry?"

Harry snapped his eyes from where they had been staring unseeing to the azure blue of his headmasters gaze. But before his professor had a chance to say or ask anything, his divination professor, completely oblivious to any undertones, turned her wide blinking eyes towards him.

"Mr Potter, ah yes, I of course knew you would be visiting us again this holiday. I saw it in the cards weeks before term ended…"

"Shut-up" Not more than a whisper.

"…that a great travesty would befall you, leading you back to…"

"Stop it" Harry felt Dumbledore turn to him.

"…Hogwarts. I'm afraid to say I also saw a grim my boy so…"

"Shut-up!!!"

His voice carried across the length and breadth of the great hall in the sudden silence. Harry didn't remember standing up but found he was, his breathing unsteady and quick. A boiling pit of anger rose from his stomach, burning his chest as he next spoke.

"You'd do better to keep your stupid prophecies to yourself!"

"Harry…"

"Why you little…!"

Alastor was on his feet now too, his eye spinning wildly in its socket as he made his way around the table. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off, not wanting to be touched or handled. By this time Moody had made his way to him and was purple in the face, reminding Harry of his uncle.

"You'll bloody well apologise or you'll have me to answer to!"

Harry stepped back slightly from the ex-auror, intimidated by the sheer anger emanating from him, his own anger slowly receding as he realised what he had just done. He saw Dumbledore step to the side of Moody and lay a hand on his shoulder, saying something Harry couldn't hear over the rush of blood in his ears. Whatever it was it was enough to have Mad-eye back off, and Harry felt a tiny bit of relief as the wizard made his way to a now shaken Sybill Trelawney. Dumbledore now stood in front of him, his eyes serious as he locked gaze with Harry's.

"Sir…"

"Go to your room Harry. I'll be up momentarily."

"But…!"

"Now Harry"

Harry felt panicked and slightly sick as he stood there. Dumbledore didn't sound angry exactly, though Harry wasn't sure what exactly that would sound like. But he did sound stern and serious, though his voice remained soft and raspy. Feeling overwhelmed by everything and wanting nothing more than to be free of the stares coming from the three adults in the room, Harry spun away and bolted for the doors.

Next Chapter: Shouldn't be too long! ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Reparo**

Rated: PG13 (Angst, maybe a swear word or two)

Spoilers: Some events from OOTP and before. Nothing beyond that.

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me!

**Authors Note**: I thought I'd take the time while I had it to bash out another chappy. Two in the space of one week! My goodness ;) As always, special thanks to everyone who reviewed the last (very angsty) chapter. You all deserve honeydukes chocolate. I realise that's its all high drama at the moment, but I figured that Harry's first week with Dumbledore would be. He's not had anywhere safe to react to everything that's happened and he hasn't had anyone he has felt safe to do it with. Fear not though, everything will start to simmer down over the next few chapters and we can start having some fun!. I'm back to holding chapters hostage pending reviews. Evil? probably, resolvable? Absolutely…. just click the little button! x

**Previously on Reparo**

"_Sir…"_

"_Go to your room Harry. I'll be up momentarily."_

"_But…!"_

"_Now Harry"_

_Harry felt panicked and slightly sick as he stood there. Dumbledore didn't sound angry exactly, though Harry wasn't sure what exactly that would sound like. But he did sound stern and serious, though his voice remained soft and raspy. Feeling overwhelmed by everything and wanting nothing more than to be free of the stares coming from the three adults in the room, Harry spun away and bolted for the doors._

* * *

Harry ran as fast as his legs would take him, through long corridors and past blurry doors, up staircases and around corners, until finally he skidded to a halt in front of the massive stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmasters office. At the same time it vaguely dawned on Harry that he didn't know the password, the Gargoyle blinked lazily at him and began to revolve, the grind of stone against stone loud in the otherwise quiet corridor. Harry walked briskly forward, his breath loud and unsteady from both exertion and emotion, and stood unsteadily on the top stair as it began to rise. When it slowed at the top Harry jumped the last distance and used both hands to push the heavy wooden door open, stepping into the office to the murmured greetings of several hanging portraits.

Ignoring them, he made his way to the steps, not quite at a run, and hands on the banisters jumped two stairs at a time until he reached the top. A portrait he hadn't noticed before now hung where he knew the entrance to Dumbledore's suite to be, but like the gargoyle it too clicked loudly and swung on its hinges, admitting him with no more than a curt nod by the pictures inhabitant.

Emotions teetering on the edge, Harry didn't spare a thought for the ease in which he had passed through to his professors inner sanctum, instead he hurriedly stepped through and strode for the door he knew led to his room. Closing it behind him with a definite thud, Harry stood for a few moments in the quiet, the back of his throat burning as he sucked in much needed air. Making his way over to his bed, Harry sunk dejectedly onto the mattress, and groaned. His anger had long since faded, leaving behind a sense of hot shame, panic and nausea. Scooting back further, he drew his legs up onto the bed and hugged his knees to his chest, his chin coming to rest on a bony knee. What had he done? What had he been thinking? What the hell was wrong with him? For years his friends and teachers had told him to take better hold of his anger, to not let it control him or his actions. And now he had taken it one step further, letting loose on a Professor. And not only that but in front of both the headmaster and one of the higher ranking members of the order of the phoenix.

Harry fell sideways, his head finding the pillow. His skin prickled horribly as he remembered the look on everyone's faces, the shock, anger and disappointment. His eyes now stung too as another wave of something hot and horrible swept over him, rushing over his back and up to his scalp. Thinking back over the past two days didn't bring any relief. When he cast his mind back all he could now see was what a basket case he had been. Crying all over the place, feeling alternatively relieved, scared and anxious and of course, angry. For someone who had tried to keep his feelings and thoughts from those who cared for years, Harry couldn't understand why then that now of all times, he was going ruddy mental.

Sitting up again he slipped his glasses off, scrubbed his damp eyes with the back of his hand and sighed miserably. Dumbledore would be there soon. What was he supposed to say to him? That he was sorry for being a few sandwiches short of a picnic? That he was sorry for leading him to believe that he was worthy of the effort and time Dumbledore had committed to him?

Hunkering down further, the very picture of misery, Harry sighed again. Perhaps, he thought, he should just tell the truth. Tell him that he couldn't cope with the knowledge of his fated task. Tell him that he wasn't as strong as everyone assumed, that he was scared stiff at the thought of meeting Voldermort again let alone duelling him. Tell him that he wasn't capable of casting that awful last curse, that he would surely break in half if he saw that sickly and horrific green light again.

The faint sound of a door being closed in the distance had Harry snapping his eyes to the closed door. He forced himself to unfurl and stand, his breathing becoming ever so slightly shallower as he listened keenly for a creak or footfall. His whole body felt tense, similar to what he felt standing in the changing rooms on the brink of a Quiddich match, but without the nervous excitement. He was keenly aware of the fact that he had never been subject to a dressing down by the headmaster, but he had heard, as most nervous first-years had from their elder housemates, of those students who had been. Apparently even the most notorious troublemakers and rebellious pranksters, those rare few who pushed as far as they could and then some, had left Dumbledore's office cowed and often teary-eyed. The cautionary tale included the whispered 'fact' that the famous headmaster hadn't ever raised his voice to a disobedient student, nor had he ever expelled one, and rumour had it that he possessed a kind of magic not known to the student body but which was capable of reducing even a Slytherin to a puddle of regret and promises to be on their best behaviour.

Harry knew the rumour to be codswallop of course, had since the end of his first year. Well, at least the magic part of it anyway. The rest…well, wasn't there a saying that rumours often began in truth?

Harry visibly jumped when another door closed, this one at the end of the hall. This time he didn't have to strain to hear the sound of someone walking, the footfalls becoming louder as they neared his room. Harry straightened his hooded jumper and ran the palms of his hands across the rear of his jeans, trying and failing to make himself appear presentable and composed. Despite the heads-up, he still jumped slightly at the knock on the door. His visitor didn't wait for an invite, instead the door opened immediately to reveal his Professor. Harry swallowed hard as Dumbledore hovered for a moment in the doorway, his eyes seemingly assessing him over the tops of his glasses. The stare lasted only a few seconds before the headmaster broke eye contact and slowly entered the room, turning his back to him for a moment as he gently closed the door behind him.

Should he start? Wouldn't that be the adult thing to do?

"Sir, I'm…"

"Hush Harry, sit down please."

Harry closed his mouth with a small snap. It was the same tone of voice he had heard from the headmaster in the great hall. Still soft and gravely but with a definite edge of sternness he was unaccustomed too. This was a voice you didn't argue with and belonged to a wizard you dare not backchat. With that in mind, Harry made his way rather warily to sit on the edge of his bed, his fingers playing with the cuffs of his new jumper. Not daring a glance, Harry instead concentrated on the toes of his old sneakers. He had hesitated when choosing his footwear this morning. A pair of brand new gleaming white sneakers had sat on the shelf, bright in the shadow of the closet. But for some odd reason Harry couldn't fathom, he had shied away from them, the pristine white leather and unmarked laces seeming somewhat intimidating and a little too perfect for him. He remembered sighing in relief as he had slipped his barely held together pair on, and chuckling at the absurdness of the whole thing. There was nothing remotely funny about the current situation however.

As he sat there he felt the telltale tingle of magic and glanced through his fringe in time to see an overstuffed armchair pop into existence, the material an orange and green garish print with exotic flowers of some description covering every panel. He heard his professor sigh deeply as he sank into it and felt another wave of shame roll over him.

"I have spoken to both Professor Trelawney and Alastor Moody and you'll be pleased to know that both understand you did not mean what you said in the hall. Sybill accounts your behaviour as a reaction to her bad news and proclaims to being accustomed to such a response, having heard several variations of your outburst many times over the years. Moody, well…"

Harry flinched at the pause. He had seen mad-eye furious before of course, angry seemed to be the wizards default mood in his opinion, but before today that anger had never been directed solely towards him. Harry would bet his firebolt that had it progressed any further than it had, he would have had difficulty sitting down for a week if the enraged wizard had gotten a hold of him.

"…well, he is of course aware of recent events and, though he would never admit to it, feels some empathy for your situation. That said he seems to believe in the most part that your anger and seesawing emotions are better attributed to your age and subsequent testosterone fluctuations than to anything else."

Harry felt the heat of his blush on his cheeks and was glad he was still focused on his brown laces than on the headmasters face.

"You should understand too that Alastor has a soft spot for Professor Trelawney, they have been friends for many years, and was more outraged on her behalf hence his own outburst. Imagine if you like someone, even Ron, raging at Hermione for no apparent reason while you stood at her side. Rightly or wrongly you would react, all us was would in defending those we care about."

Harry cringed again. He knew that should that scenario ever present itself he would not stand idly by.

"Like your fear Harry, your anger has a time and place. You must learn to contain your fury when it is not needed or deserved. I understand you have much to be angry about and I am not in any way saying that you are not to feel angry at all. Like all other emotion anger, when held inside, can have unforeseen effects, and too like all other emotions needs to be released in a way not harmful to you or others. And we are none of us perfect my boy. We all lose our tempers occasionally, often lashing out at those we feel safest with or those who are undeserving of such a reaction. It is human nature to do so my boy, I am not expecting you to be the picture of emotional stability. But we will discuss more on that later."

Dumbledore's voice had fallen back into its usual gentle timber during his speech, but Harry noted the edge of sternness coming back on the last sentence. He tensed his shoulders in preparation of whatever was coming.

"I want you to be as happy as you can be here Harry. I will give you time and space to be on your own and whatever support and assistance I can, as I have said before. But I would be lax in my role as caregiver if I did not impose a structure. To that end, and from this moment on, I would like for you to comply with the following. You are to be in bed for eleven o'clock weekdays, with lights out at eleven thirty. At weekends those hours will be extended somewhat, with lights out at twelve thirty instead. There will be a space next to me at every meal, regardless of who is here at the time and where we take it. I will expect you to join me, when I am here of course, for breakfast, lunch and dinner, no exception. If I am called away I will expect you to stay within our quarters and call for food from the kitchens. There will be no acceptable excuse for missing a meal while you are here Harry…"

Harry could feel his shoulders sinking deeper and deeper. No wonder those students had left in tears! They're whole ruddy lives had been changed!

"…As for your studies. You missed a significant portion of last year's syllabus, through no fault of your own of course, but it would be to your benefit to catch up on what you can. Then there's your homework to consider. I suggest a few hours each day, excluding the weekends of course…"

Harry couldn't stop the sigh that left his lips. At this rate his whole summer would be one long study session, with time for sleeping and eating in between of course. He noted the silence through his haze of self-pity and risked a glance up through the wisps of hair across his forehead. Dumbledore appeared to be waiting for his attention, and, Harry noted confusingly, had the slightest glint of amusement in his eye. He really couldn't see what was amusing in this situation.

"…I'm afraid to say that all I have asked is non-negotiable, but fear not young Harry, there will be plenty of time for fun and frolic's. And you will have resources at your disposal to assist you in your studies, something most of your friends and classmates do not have during the holidays. You may consider utilising the library for example, and of course there is always myself or any other professor remaining within the school who would be more than happy to assist you."

Somehow that didn't sound nearly as positive as he was sure it was meant to, Harry thought. He settled for nodding his head ever so slightly to show he had heard, his eyes now studying the thumbnail of his left hand.

"Now, do you want to tell me what happened in the hall? I realise that your morning hadn't gotten off to the best of starts even before breakfast and I realise too that Sybill's dire predictions can become tedious, especially for you. But my instincts are telling me that this is something else. . Am I right Harry?"

A tiny part of Harry surged in rebellious indignation. How could the wizard ask him to share his innermost fears and feelings when he had just scheduled his every waking moment without so much as a by or leave? But the rest of him knew he couldn't carry on like this anymore, that sharing his burden with his professor might go someway to lessening it. Hermione was always going on about a problem halved and all that after all, and she was very nearly _always_ right. Still…

"You needn't tell me now if you don't wish to. I realise it has been a taxing morning and if you would rather wait till this evening, give yourself a chance to think, that is perfectly acceptable Harry. In fact, I have found that writing my thoughts down on parchment is often easier than saying them aloud, if the subject is an emotional one. It has the benefit of not including anything you did not mean to say and can help organise and identify exactly how you _do_ feel about things."

Harry finally found his voice.

"I think I'd prefer that sir." Had his voice always sounded that small and pathetic? He huffed out another sigh, thoroughly disgusted with himself. There was a long moment of silence.

"Harry"

He looked up and met the strong blue gaze. There was still no twinkle present he noted, but neither was there a frown so he supposed that was at least something.

"Your behaviour today was less than acceptable, and in different circumstances or times I would have thoroughly taken you to task for it, make no mistake…"

Harry felt his ears grow hot as shame and anxiety crawled over him.

"…Despite the terrible things that have happened, and the concerns and fears you carry, I am determined not to treat you differently than I would any other child in my care. I do not think you would appreciate it if I did. I will not tolerate disrespect or direct disobedience Harry, to me or any other adult, is that understood?"

Harry had to look away. The rebuke had been gentle; as these things go, and Harry supposed it was the fact that it was that caused his eyes to mist over and a lump to form in his throat. It was certainly nothing to do with any rare and mystical magic. Harry only dared whisper back, not trusting his voice.

"Yes sir."

"Then we will consider the matter closed and not think on it again. Ok?"

The pull of self-pity was strong. What he really wanted was to be left alone so he could wallow in it, but he knew it would never happen. Instead he took a deep cleansing breath, which shook on its way back out, and slumped in relief. He saw Dumbledore shift then stand, the gaudy armchair disappearing as he straightened, and dared a look upwards. When he met the soft blue gaze and saw the twinkle was back in full force he couldn't stop his lips from tugging slightly, encouraged when his professor beamed back at him.

"Now, how go the letters? Have you anything to send yet?"

Dumbledore had suggested yesterday that it might be a good idea to write his friends and reassure them of his well-being. He knew that his professor had briefly spoken to both Ron and Hermione at some point and informed them of his whereabouts, but if he knew them at all, which he thought he did, then he knew they would remain concerned and curious until they heard from him directly. Dumbledore had reassured him the day before that his friends were well and had hinted that there may be an opportunity for them to visit at some point. It was with that incentive in his mind that he had put quill to parchment, writing first Ron then Hermione. He had kept both letters fairly brief, not including any details just more of a vague outline of his past few days and what had led to them, but encouraging them both to pester their parents about coming to Hogwarts as soon as possible so he could speak to them properly. He mentioned the headmaster has seemed fairly opened to the idea so it probably wouldn't take much to convince him.

"Umm, yes sir I do. One each for Ron and Hermione if that's ok?"

As Harry could not leave the castle and Hedwig was taking full advantage of a blissful summer at the owlery instead of his relatives garage, he relied on the headmaster to take care of his mail. Harry walked over to his desk and picked up the two envelopes, each carefully and neatly inscribed with his best friends names and addresses. He hadn't sealed them as yet and told Dumbledore as much as he handed them to him.

"I'm sure they will be well received Harry. And as for a seal…"

Harry watched as Dumbledore withdrew his wand from within his voluminous robes and swirled it in an intricate movement, tapping each envelope in turn. Once tapped the thick paper glowed bright blue for a spilt second before retaining its normal colour. Cool.

"What was that sir?"

Dumbledore smirked down at him, bending his head very low so he could look across his glasses.

"Would you like me to teach it to you Harry?"

Harry felt a slight thrill run through him, completely eradicating any residual traces of anxiety that had been left, at the prospect of learning a new spell. From Dumbledore.

"Are you kidding? Umm, I mean, yes sir that would be great!"

Dumbledore smiled knowingly, his eyes twinkling like twin stars.

"Wand out then Harry"

* * *

Dumbledore had left the castle with strict instructions to Harry not to leave the suite for _any_ reason, and with a list of things to do to keep him busy. Harry sighed as he looked over the elegantly written note.

'_As you admitted this morning during our brief lesson, Transfiguration is the subject you seem to struggle with most. During my own school days it was ancient runes I could not grasp, despite the assistance of my schoolmates and closest friends. But I did get there in the end, as I am sure you will too._

_I have left a book on my bed titled 'Trying Transfiguration' by Harmony Handlestock. It is not suitable for class curriculum but I believe you may find it helpful. Read the first three chapters but__**do not** attempt any spell work. We shall practice together when I return._

_I shouldn't be too long at the ministry Harry but if I am delayed and you find yourself at a loose end, perhaps you could start that letter we spoke of this morning?_

_I have left instructions for Wilspy to provide whatever you should require. Just call her if you need anything my boy. In the case of an emergency Wilspy can reach me wherever I am. Remember that Alastor is only a floo call away for anything else._

_AD_'

Harry folded the letter carefully and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans as he stood and made his way to the headmaster's bedroom. As promised, a solitary thin book lay in the middle of the grand bed, its green coloured cover clashing horribly with the red of the bed coverings.

He began to flip through the book as he made his way back to the sitting room, but found that apart from the first page, all other pages appeared to be blank. Was this some kind of trick? Sitting down on the couch, Harry read the introduction on the first page looking for any clue. When he had finished, still none the wiser, as the long paragraph was simply an introduction to both Ms Handlestock and what she hoped he would learn, he flipped the page over and was astonished to find black cursive script detailing chapter one. So that was it, he thought, a charm so you couldn't skip to the middle or end. Harry was glad that the same charm hadn't been applied to all of his schoolbooks. If that were the case he would never had submitted half the essays he had!

Settling himself comfortably against the cushions at his back and side Harry began to read what was revealed to him, soon loosing track of time as he was swept away in language and techniques that _actually_ made sense to him.

It was the loud pop of Wilspy appearing in front of him that finally snapped Harry away from the book some time later. His yelp of surprise and fumbling for his wand was embarrassing enough, but to add to it he had dropped the thin book in the process, the sharp edge of one corner hitting his socked toe before coming to rest at his feet. When Harry looked down at the house elf, his top teeth firmly planted in his bottom lip as he tried not to whimper, he noted the watery eyes and wringing hands and all irritation melted away.

"Wilspy is not meaning to scare Harry Potter sir! But Professor Albus be telling me to check on you and to make sure you be's eating your lunch!"

The effort to smile was a great one through the stinging in his bruised toe but he managed it.

"It's alright Wilspy, I'm fine. Jump a bit jumpy I guess."

That seemed to brighten the diminutive elf up and Harry was rewarded with a toothy grin.

"Wilspy is being glad you be fine Harry Potter, but you be needing to eat your lunch or Professor Albus be upset! Does you want something special?"

It was lunchtime already? Harry looked over to the old grandfather clock and noted that it was indeed after midday. Had he really been reading for two hours? When he thought about it he realised he was pretty hungry, which wasn't surprising considering what he had eaten at breakfast.

"Umm, a turkey sandwich would be good if that's alright?"

Another toothy grin and then Wilspy twirled and disappeared with a noticeable pop. Only a matter of seconds past when another pop produced a tray, which hovered in front of him, a plate piled high with sandwiches balancing precariously atop. As soon as Harry's hands closed around the ends of the tray the magic holding it faded, letting him manoeuvre it to the small table he had eaten at yesterday.

As he slowly chewed his way through a good portion of the food, Harry's mind wandered. It was quiet in the sitting room, with only the ticking of the antique swinging pendulum of the clock and the occasional crackle from the wood in the fire to keep it from total silence. He was accustomed to silence of course, having spent many of his younger years either locked in a cupboard or, more recently, in his bedroom at the Dursley's. But it somehow felt wrong for it to be so quiet here at Hogwarts.

A glass of cold pumpkin juice appeared next to his plate and Harry downed it in one go, only realising how thirsty he had become when the cool liquid touched his tongue. Full and satisfied, he pushed the tray away and sunk back into the comfort of the chair, his eyes taking in the view from the window beside him. In the quiet he tried very hard not to think of anything, to let his mind go blank, as he had tried to do so many times before in his efforts at occlumency. But just like then it proved difficult. Flashes of scenes and memories flickered across his mind accompanied by an endless stream of half finished thoughts, wonderings and worries. As a memory of Sirius found its way to the front, Harry wondered if he would get his mirror back when Dumbledore returned. He knew it was perhaps silly to want to keep it, it was broken after all, but the thought of throwing it away was enough to bring a shudder to his breath.

A dull pop sounded and both his glass and the tray he had been using disappeared back to the kitchens, snapping him from his morose thoughts.

Determined not to become bogged down in depressing and anger evoking memories, Harry stood and made his way to his bedroom, snagging the book he had been reading on the way. The sun had finally managed to fight its way through the heavy rain laden clouds that had filled the horizon for days and when he opened the door to his bedroom it was filled with a warm, comforting glow. He left the door open slightly and walked over to his desk, depositing the book there for later. It really had proved most useful and he was eager to try some of the techniques it suggested. As he sat down he pulled some blank parchment in front of him and picked up one of the bright coloured quills. It was time for his second task of the day.

It was perhaps another hour later when Harry heard the entrance portrait open and close, admitting someone to the suite. He had yet to finish what he had started, in fact, if he were honest, he had barely even started, but he stood up anyway, needing the break, and walked the few steps to his doorway to look down the hall.

Dumbledore was just removing his heavy outer robe, made difficult it seemed by the thick pile of parchments clutched in one hand. He managed though and looked up just as Harry started towards him.

"Ah, Harry. Everything well I trust?"

Dumbledore had shuffled into the sitting as he spoke and Harry followed him.

"Yes sir. How did it go at the ministry?"

When his headmaster turned to answer him Harry immediately noted that the papers he had been carrying when he entered were nowhere in sight. Strange…

" I actually had several meetings to attend within a short amount of time but fortunately all the offices were located within the same building. Very convenient my boy. As for the meetings themselves, let us just say that some of them went better than others and leave it at that hmm? I certainly wouldn't like to bore you with the details Harry. How about a spot of tea instead? I have always maintained, and still do, that English tea cannot hold a candle to the Scottish blends we prefer."

Harry felt there was more to the meetings than Dumbledore was letting on.

"Uh, sure, tea would be good sir. Was there any mention of Voldermort? Has something happened?"

Dumbledore turned from where he had been carefully draping his outer robe across the back of his armchair to look at Harry seriously. After this morning, Harry almost took a step back.

"As far as any of us are aware Harry, Voldermort has not been seen or heard of since our duel in the Ministry. Please be assured that had I heard anything or if there had been an attack I would have informed you immediately. I will not make the same mistakes twice my boy."

Harry shuffled his feet, nodding. He hadn't meant to sound so accusatory.

"Tea then hmm?"

Wilspy appeared for the second time that day with a jaunty grin on her face.

"Professor Albus! What can Wilspy be getting you sir?"

Harry watched as Dumbledore smiled at the Hogwarts elf, seemingly pleased with her presence.

"Tea for two Wilspy, and some biscuits too if you don't mind. I'm afraid the ministry is so busy with the clean up that they forgot their manners! I'm rather peckish."

Wilspy looked outraged at the thought, her small hands fisting at her sides.

"Wilspy be getting the headmaster something proper to eat! Professor Albus be needing to keep his strength up to run after his young wizard!"

Harry felt his face flush, and wasn't sure whether it is brought on by embarrassment, indignation or anger. Probably all three, he thought. It didn't help that his headmaster was chuckling.

"No, no, no Wilspy some biscuits will be fine. I do not want to spoil myself for my dinner after all."

Wilspy seemed to hesitate for a moment, considering, and then she clicked her fingers, disappearing to the kitchens presumably.

Dumbledore's eyes were still shining when he turned to Harry.

"Let us sit Harry. You can tell me what you learned from Ms Handlestock and I can tell you what thoughts I have had on our summer activities."

Harry instantly brightened, his scowl melting into a smile.

"I'll just go get the book sir"

Dumbledore watched as Harry practically ran from the room. Sitting at the table he released a long sigh of relief and nodded his head. 'Yes', he thought, 'everything will work out fine'.


	9. Chapter 9

**Reparo**

Rated: PG13 (Angst, maybe a swear word or two)

Spoilers: Some events from OOTP and before. Nothing beyond that as it's completely AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me!

**Authors Note**: My sincere thanks to all of you who took the time to review the last chapter. Not much plot-wise in this one, but chapter 10 is looking to be pretty action packed so those of you who enjoy a quicker pace can look forward to that ;) I'd love to hear from as many of you as I can and if it's any more of an incentive, I promise to respond to everyone's comments. Enjoy!

**Previously **

_Dumbledore's eyes were still shining when he turned to Harry._

"_Let us sit Harry. You can tell me what you learned from Ms Handlestock and I can tell you what thoughts I have had on our summer activities."_

_Harry instantly brightened, his scowl melting into a smile. _

"_I'll just go get the book sir"_

_Dumbledore watched as Harry practically ran from the room. Sitting at the table he released a long sigh of relief and nodded his head. 'Yes', he thought, 'everything will work out fine'._

_88888888888888888888888888888888_

_"…it can be advantageous for the castor to practice basic mind clearing exercises before attempting any level 3 transfigurations. At this level castors are expected to be able to maintain a steady and continuous stream of magic, as is often required during difficult morphs. Occulemency, at its most basic, has shown to improve a castors concentration by effectively dampening emotions…"_

Harry closed the book with a frustrated sigh. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his disastrous attempts at that particular branch of magic. Instead he looked around his room for a distraction and was not surprised when his eyes settled on the small wooden box that sat on the bedside table. Dumbledore had presented it to him yesterday morning, and on opening it Harry had discovered Sirius' mirror placed carefully within its velvet depths. After a brief explanation on why it was beyond repair, the headmaster had left as quietly as he had arrived and Harry had only seen him again when it was time to go to bed.

Harry's attention snapped to the window in surprise when a sharp tapping filled the room. A small owl stood dancing on the stone window ledge, its large bright eyes focussed intently on him through the glass. Harry quickly made his way to the window and opened one side wide, a light mist of rain covering him in the process. The damp little owl hooted gratefully at him as it hopped inside and held its twig like leg out to him. Harry gently caressed the damp feathers before reaching for the multiple scrolls attached with red ribbon. Surprisingly, despite the atrocious summer storms the letters and ribbon remained dry and crinkle free. Even now, years later, Harry continued to be impressed by magic.

"I'm afraid I don't have anything to offer you, I'm really sorry"

Large amber eyes blinked at him in response before it gave a soft hoot, as though in understanding, before taking off through the window and back into the rain. Harry watched the owl fight the elements before it became lost in the tumultuous clouds and couldn't help but think that in general, owls had a hard lot in life.

Another smattering of rain forced Harry to close the mottled glass and he wiped the clear drops from his glasses as he made his way over to his bed. It turned out to be three tightly rolled scrolls wrapped carefully within the red satin. The first one he unrolled impatiently turned out to be from Ron.

"_Alright mate?_

_I can't believe you're at Hogwarts!! Still, better there with Dumbledore than with those ruddy Dursley's right? What happened Harry? I mean I know it's been bad before but something major must have happened for you to end up with the headmaster! I know you don't want to write it down but still…it must have been bad mate. My mum is worried sick for you, she's charmed two sets of needles to knit you jumpers cause she reckons the weather in Scotland is a bit confuzzled. Sorry bout that. Anyway, I spoke to my dad whose slightly less metal than my mum right now and he says that if Dumbledore says its ok and is going to be there then I can come stay at the castle. Great news right? Can you speak to him and find out when I can come? Oh and better tell him to put it in writing or something for mum; she's crazy paranoid right now. Honestly Harry it will be a break to come visit I swear! Anyway, I better wrap this up._

_See you soon mate_

_Ron_

_P.S I'm all packed mate, well mostly anyway. Ready when you are!_

Harry rolled up the parchment slowly, digesting what Ron had said with a slight smile. On the one hand, Ron was coming to Hogwarts, a thought that filled him with a comfortingly warm glow. On the other hand it was obvious by what his best friend had written that the Weasleys were worried ill for him. The thought that Mrs Weasley was frantic was enough to chase the previous glow away completely. The last thing he wanted was to worry anyone, or worse, be the centre of everyone's attention. To take his mind of those morose thoughts Harry unfurled the next scroll.

"_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? I can't tell you how relieved I am that you are at Hogwarts with Professor Dumbledore. In a completely selfish way I can now worry less, as I know you will be safe and well looked after. It is not ideal I know Harry and probably not what you would wish but much better than your other option I would imagine._

_I have spoken to my parents about visiting you at school and as it is somewhere they both already know, they are happy to give their consent. Do you know when we can come? I had worried slightly about what the ministry's view was on students staying in the castle during summer break, as it clearly states in 'Hogwarts; A History' that such a thing is unheard of, but I assume the headmaster has already cleared it with them or he would not have invited us._

_Anyway, I'm really looking forward to seeing both you and Ron. We have lots to talk about, not least what has happened to lead you there in the first place. If it is anything like what has happened before then I'm truly sorry Harry. The Dursley's don't deserve you._

_Please let me know ASAP the date and time of departure. I haven't been able to pack clothes nor books, as I'm not sure how long I'll be staying._

_Take care Harry and I'll see you soon._

_Love Hermione x_

_P.S Have you started your summer assignments? Studying has shown to reduce stress and focus your mind!"_

Harry couldn't stop the snort of laughter that bubbled up when he read Hermione's postscript. Only she could turn studying into an effective stress therapy. Harry identified Hermione's words as sympathetic, not pitying, which when he considered it was an improvement for him. It was obvious from both letters that his friends were anxious and curious, which, he admitted to himself, he would be too if the situations were reversed.

The third parchment turned out to be from Mrs Weasley herself.

"_Dearest Harry,_

_First off, I would like to remind you that Arthur and I are here for you for whatever you need. I know that Albus will take very good care of you and will no doubt supply everything you might need but there may be things you do not want to ask him for, him being your professor, so you should feel free to contact us at any time, day or night._

_I'm sending some supplies with Ronald that may come in handy Harry dear, just some spare warm clothing, socks, hats, gloves, charmed blankets and a charmed box of home baking. It isn't much I'm afraid._

_On a more serious note, and you should know that I've already had this conversation with Ronald, I want you to promise me that you will be on your best behaviour and heed everything Professor Dumbledore says while you are there. While I have absolutely no doubts that Albus is more than capable of maintaining discipline, an experience I remember from my own school days, I would like to think it should not be required. As I said to Ron this morning, rules are there for your own good and protection, not, as is commonly believed by your generation, to be broken! That said, none of my boys have let me down before and I don't see you doing so now Harry dear._

_I plan on collecting Ron myself when his visit is over so I will see you then. Please make sure that you eat plenty and get as much sleep and rest as you can._

_Take care and I will see you soon dear._

_Lots of love_

_Molly Weasley (The Burrow)_

Harry re-read the letter several times, slowing always on one particular line. Molly Weasley was the first woman who had shown Harry what a mother was really like and although at first it had deepened his own loss, over time he had come to the realisation that the Weasley matriarch had adopted him in her own mind. Though the warning in the letter was as serious as any he had gotten before, instead of embarrassment and anxiety, Harry instead felt a return of warmth to his chest.

Taking advantage of his current good mood, Harry leapt from his bed and made his way to the sitting room in search of his Professor. He had spoken to the headmaster that morning over breakfast and knew from their conversation that he was going to be busy with school business most of the day but he had advance permission to seek him out for '_anything that matters to you_.' as Dumbledore had phrased it and Harry felt that finalising his friends visits was pretty high on his personal list of what really mattered today. Harry entered the sitting room and seeing no-one there was about to call for Fawkes when a small house elf appeared with an almighty crack in front of him, startling Harry so badly he almost toppled over backwards. As he stood clutching his chest with one hand and wand with the other, the diminutive elf, which Harry hadn't seen before, wrung his hands nervously in front of him.

"Me be's sorry to scare professors Harry but professor sends squiggle to fetch Harry Potter as professors Harry be's late for fantastic hall!"

Harry frowned as he tried to make sense of the house elf's speedily delivered words. When he finally translated his eyes went wide with realisation. He was late for lunch! Eyes searching out the grandfather clock, Harry dismally noted he was supposed to have been in the great hall some thirty-five minutes ago. Breathlessly thanking the elf, Harry spun on his heel and dashed down the hallway, through the portrait, across the office and down the revolving staircase. Running as fast as he could manage, Harry eventually skidded to a halt outside the great doors. Lungs burning, Harry panted hard as he pushed his meagre weight against the charmed wooden door and slipped inside, leaving the slightly cold air of the hallway behind him.

As before, there appeared to be only one table set in the middle of the hall and instead of several professors sitting engaged in quiet conversation as he had expected, Harry saw only the headmaster sitting as before at the head of the table, a glass of something bright and fizzy in his hand, Harry gulped. Sweat cooling on his brow and neck; Harry shuffled across the distance, his heavy breathing loud in the cavernous hall. As Harry neared the table he could see that several parchments were spread in front of his professor and it appeared as though he were reading them intently. Harry paused a few feet away and tried to slow his breathing. A few uncomfortable moments passed before Dumbledore grunted in acknowledgment of whatever he had read and lifted his eyes to Harry.

"I'm…. I'm really sorry…. I'm late" Harry managed between panted breaths.

Dumbledore, looking up at Harry from where he sat, raised his bushy eyebrows marginally even as his eyes twinkled and motioned to the bench on his right. Harry sat down gratefully and accepted the tall glass of pumpkin juice that was suddenly in his professor's hand. He noisily gulped down half the glass before remembering his manners and setting the glass down gently on the scarred wood. Wiping the back of a hand over his mouth, he tried again.

"I'm sorry I'm late sir. I didn't realise the time, I got some letters and…."

"…_and_ you believe I am….angry?"

Harry noted with some confusion that Dumbledore looked…concerned? Not sure what to make of either the question or the look, Harry instead shrugged slightly and focussed on the half empty glass in front of him. The silence went unbroken for several moments. Harry heard Dumbledore shift and sigh before a pressure under his chin forced his head up.

He watched the hand retreat to join the other resting on the table and wearily locked his gaze with the bright blue eyes of his professor.

"I am not angry Harry. Not with you at any rate."

Harry's confusion must have shown in his own eyes.

"I am angry with your relatives for instilling in you this fear of committing the slightest indiscretion, so much so that you expect anger or hostility for such a thing as typical teenage tardiness. Whilst I would encourage you to show others respect by being on time, I would not, _will_ _not_, use cruel and unusual punishments when you fail to do so. As has so often been the case in the past has it not?"

Harry's warm glow disappeared as quickly as though someone had doused him with a bucket of ice. How had being late for lunch dissolved into a conversation about the Dursley's? Was that not now over and done with? Why would Dumbledore bring it up now? What good would it do? In Harry's mind, a flickering slide show of memories played, small snapshots of the very punishments his professor was referring to. He clenched his jaw and fists, a familiar anger building within him he hadn't felt in the past few days. It was only when he felt a firm pressure on his forearm that he realised the glass in front of him was trembling against the wood, its contents splashing within.

"Hush Harry…"

Expelling a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, he felt the tension lessen and his magic settle within him. The hand resting on his arm patted twice before again withdrawing and Harry was surprised to find that within his usual jumble of emotion, he missed its presence.

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by a distant rumble of thunder and Harry wished suddenly that he were anywhere but Hogwarts. As much as he loathed his relatives, he at least knew where he stood with them and what to expect. There wasn't any guesswork required with them and very few surprises. Through his anxiousness he could sense a question building in the wizard sitting next to him and rushed to change the subject, willing his professor to forget the conversation and bout of accidental magic.

"I got some letters today, that's what I was trying to say earlier, from Ron, Hermione and Mrs Weasley. Ron and Hermione both spoke to their parents and are allowed to come visit, if its still ok that is, and want me to ask you when would be a good time."

Harry risked a sideways glance and saw that Dumbledore was no longer looking at him, but instead was studying his hands that were clasped atop the table.

"And Molly? What news from her?"

Harry noted the change in his professors tone but was so relived he had managed to steer the conversation he didn't risk commenting on it. Though the question 'Are you ok?' sat uncomfortably on the tip of his tongue.

"No news precisely sir. She just wanted me to know that she was sending some supplies with Ron and that I should…."

Harry hesitated, a little colour infusing his pale cheeks. What could he say? Behave? Be good? Neither choice sat well with him and in his opinion made him sound like a mischievous first year. Harry noted mid thought that Dumbledore was focussed on his again and when he turned to fully meet his gaze was met with a shrewd smile and a returning twinkle.

"Stay out of trouble?"

Though relieved that some joviality had returned to his headmaster's voice, Harry still found it in himself to scowl slightly in his professor's direction.

"It isn't like I'm in trouble _all_ the time…" he muttered.

"Indeed"

That comment was much too 'Snapeish' in Harry's professional opinion but before he could comment, Dumbledore was speaking again.

"Perhaps some lunch Harry? I am afraid you have missed the myriad of delicious dishes Moody and I shared but I'm sure the house elves will be more than happy to rustle you something up. Oh and while on the subject, and I promise I will say no more after this, please try to be on time Harry. While you delay, time does not and I'd much rather you eating meals in company than in the tower yourself. Understood?"

Harry didn't feel the rush of warmth he had felt earlier while reading Mrs Weasley's letter but neither did he feel anxious so he supposed that was something.

"Yes sir"

"Excellent! Squiggle?"

The house elf Harry had met just minutes ago reappeared with the unusually loud crack of apparition and smiled toothily at them, all previous signs of worry gone.

"Is Professor Dumbledore be's needing something sir?"

The small elf was obviously ecstatic at the prospect.

"Some lunch please squiggle for young Harry, if you'd be so good?"

Squiggle was nodding his head so vigorously during the request Harry feared it would roll right off.

"Yes sir professor Dumbledore sir!!"

And with another crack that left a ringing in Harry's left ear, the elf was gone. A few seconds later, just as at dinner time during the school year, a plate appeared before Harry with steaming bowl of thick soup at its centre with small triangular pieces of bread surrounding it. At Dumbledore's encouraging gesture Harry lifted the shining spoon and stirred the thick broth, the steam from which was fogging his glasses slightly. As he began to tentatively eat the hot broth, Dumbledore spoke again.

"You'll be pleased to know that I spoke to both Ron and Hermione earlier, as well as their respective parents. I have arranged for them both to arrive tomorrow morning, although by different means. For security reasons Hermione will be travelling by portkey as her parents home does not have the same protections as the Burrow. Ron will be arriving by floo and they should both be present and accounted for no later than 10am. If everything goes well your friends can stay until Friday, when Molly will escort them both back to the Burrow and see to Hermione's safe return home."

Harry, in the process of thoroughly drenching a crust less piece of bread in his soup, paused as he processed what his headmaster had said. '_If_ _everything goes well_?' What was that supposed to mean? Did Dumbledore know something he didn't?

"I've also arranged for you and your friends to stay in Griffindor tower during their stay…"

Harry raised excited eyes to meet Dumbledore's gaze. The tower! All to themselves! No nosy housemates, no vying for the best armchairs and most importantly, no adult supervision. They'd really have free run of the place!

"…and Fawkes has been most accommodating by agreeing to keep you company for the duration."

Harry's dreams of staying up all night talking or better, sneaking around the castle fizzled to dust. Fawkes. He might as well have had Dumbledore himself ensconced in the common room. Through his disappointing introspection, Harry caught sight of his Professors smile.

"That being said, Fawkes will of course continue to perform his duties and may not be a consistent companion. However, I'm positive that three young griffindors such as you will manage quite admirably without adult, or avian for that matter, supervision."

Like the Phoenix itself, Harry's hopes sprang to life from the ashes.

Harry let the spoon clink quietly against the bowl when the last of the mushroom broth was eaten. He felt full, warm and excited at the prospect of his friend's arrival. Glancing back at his Professor, Harry felt lighter than he had in days.

"We'll be fine Professor, we've got millions of stuff to keep us busy. We can still explore the castle though right? I mean we don't have to stay in the tower or anything?"

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and rearranged his brightly coloured robe.

"As I said before, you are free to wander anywhere you wish within the castle itself. You are not however allowed to leave its shelter and the same restrictions shall be put on your friends when they arrive. I am serious about this Harry; you are not, for _any_ reason, to leave the school. Not even to sit in the courtyard or pitch. Am I understood?"

Harry nodded his head almost as much as Squiggle had done earlier.

"Good boy. Now, what are your plans for the remainder of the day? Have you made any ground on your letter?"

Harry grimaced. Dumbledore had asked him several days ago to try and put his feelings down on paper. And he had tried, really he had. But the attempts he had made had left him reeling with the very emotions he tried to verbalise and more often than not the parchment became a shredded mess at the bottom of the wastepaper basket. Or, as had happened with his last attempt, the paper itself had caught fire and left Harry beating the flames with the sole of his trainer. _That_ was not an experience he wanted to have again. Sitting back on his own chair, Harry fiddled with the zipper of his jumper.

"What is it Harry?"

Dumbledore was leaning forward again but his voice was soft and gravely, inviting him to share his feelings. Harry huffed out a frustrated sigh. He was hopeless at this.

"I'm…I'm having some trouble" he managed to get out.

He could see out the corner of his eyes that his Professor was nodding his head.

"I see. Well, it was only an idea m'boy. Perhaps something else would be better suited to you."

Harry looked up then, not sure whether to feel relieved or ashamed.

"Something else sir?"

Dumbledore seemed to be thinking again, his gaze on the gleaming tabletop in front of Harry. The look of contemplation only lasted a few seconds before the twinkle returned and the old man smiled.

"We shall talk about it later Harry. Now, while I'm sure the elves have done a marvellous job of preparing the tower for your friends, I am equally sure that you will want to move some of your belongings and possessions to your dorm to make it more homely. Do you know a suitable shrinking charm?"

Harry coloured slightly, not sure why, but shook his head in the negative. They had only learned engorgement so far in charms.

When Dumbledore stood, Harry done the same and watched as the headmaster cleared the table of everything but the teapot with a sweep of his hand. When his professor produced his wand from a pocket in his robe, Harry knew it was only for his benefit that he was using it at all. It was obvious the powerful wizard could perform most charms or spells wandlessly.

Harry snapped his attention to Dumbledore's gaze when the man cleared his throat.

"Watching?" there was a hint of amusement there.

"Yes sir"

Harry watched the wand movement carefully, determined to get this right first time. It seemed to be an infinity figure of eight with a slight flick at the end combined with the activation word 'Arto'. He watched as the teapot reduced to the size of a sharpener.

"Whilst performing the wand movements you must visualise the size you want the object to become before you incant the Latin. Watch again."

With the hand not holding the wand, Harry watched impressed as the headmaster enlarged the teapot to its original size before again going through the motions to reduce it.

"Go ahead Harry. Remember, wand movement, visualise the size then incant."

Harry nodded his head to show he had heard but his concentration was on the resized teapot in front of him. Holding his wand firmly in front of him and taking a deep breath to steady him, Harry began to replicate the wand movement he had witnessed. He visualised the teapot as he had seen it become, and then said the incantation, as he had been instructed. He was disheartened then when all the teapot seemed to do was shudder slightly against the tabletop as though a cold breeze had brushed against its porcelain. Flushing slightly, he risked a glance to the side and saw that Dumbledore was studying his own wand, rolling it between his fingers as though he hadn't seen it before. Turning back to the table, Harry readjusted his stance and frowned in concentration. He was determined not to bollox this up again.

Holding his wand in a firm grip he began the infinity movement, a little faster than before, and imagined the innocent teapot shrinking in on itself. As he flicked the wand to finish the movement he called out the Latin, slightly louder than he had intended and watched in immense satisfaction as the teapot began to shrink. And shrink. And shrink. Harry leaned forward alarmed as the teapot became so tiny that even with his glasses he had a hard time keeping track of it. When it was no bigger than a spec of lint on a robe Harry heard a whispered 'finite' from behind his left shoulder and turned sharply to see his Professor. He noted that the headmaster's moustache was twitching and his eyes were brighter than ever. He thought this was funny!

Harry frowned in consternation and folded his arms across his chest.

Dumbledore really did chuckle then and swept forward to place a warm hand on his shoulder.

"No-one gets a complex spell right the first try Harry. If they did, my fellow professors and myself would be surely out of a job hmm? If you will allow an old mans observation, I believe you are trying too hard. Relax your hand while incanting and I'm confident you will see better results."

Harry relaxed as much as he could and looked down to the hand that rightly enough was clenched around the wood. Had he always held his wand so tightly? Catching movement from above, Harry glanced up just in time to see the microscopic teapot return to its former glory. He glanced up at Dumbledore.

"Keep practising Harry, and try not to be too hard on yourself. It is a tricky charm to master. I've charmed the teapot to resize after each attempt so feel free to spend as much time as you want to. I'm afraid I must return to my office to take a firecall or I would have stayed to assist you."

"That's ok Professor, I'll be fine. I'll keep trying."

"Come find me if you need me then. If you don't feel comfortable performing the charm on your own belongings I'll be more than happy to help you this evening after dinner. Which, incidentally, you will be expected for."

Not wanting a repeat of earlier, Harry quickly gave his promise that he would be there. On time. He watched as the wizard smiled knowingly before passing a hand across his hair, in what was now a sign of affection, before he turned on his heel and started towards the great doors. Harry ran his own hand over his hair as he watched his professor make his way steadily across the expanse of the hall. Just as he neared the doors, he called out.

"Professor Dumbledore!"

The professor stopped and spun, his impressive robe swinging out in a wave of gold and blue.

Harry hesitated, watching as he did his professors eyebrows rising in enquiry. A swell of different emotions welled in his chest, and for a moment Harry wasn't sure he would be able to speak. Taking a deep breath and focussing intently on the eyes that were bright even from a distance, Harry found his voice.

"Thank-you."

It wasn't half of what he wanted to say but it was a start. He could see a gentle smile crease the corners of his headmaster's eyes.

"Your very welcome Harry"

And with that the old man turned and with a sweep of his hand, opened and closed the doors of the great hall soundlessly.

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Harry woke the following morning at the sprightly hour at 6.00am. It was not however a gentle awakening. Gasping for breath, sweat dampening his hair, Harry grasped for reality for several agonising moments, stuck as he was between the dream world and the real. An indistinct hazy red mist filled with whispers, moans and despair struggled back, resulting in Harry shouting unconsciously for someone to help him. A too bright flare of orange and red exploded just feet from him and it was enough to snap the connection from whatever had been holding him down. Blinking open bleary eyes, Harry saw the blurry outline of Fawkes standing at the side of his bed, his head cocked in question. Fighting back a hard sob, Harry blinked back at Fawkes, trying to communicate his unspoken need. The magnificent bird disappeared in another flurry of flame and Harry wasn't sure either what he had been asking for or whether or not Fawkes had understood, but before he could think on it further his bedroom door opened and a tall blurred figure strode determinately towards him, his stride long and fast.

"Harry?"

As Dumbledore came into focus, sitting as he now was at the edge of the bed, Harry reached out a shaking hand and wrapped it within the folds of the robe pooled around the headmaster. He felt distinctly unhinged and frightened and not at all like himself. It was as though all his usual defences had fallen and his body had not the knowledge or perhaps the energy to rebuild them.

"You are safe Harry. It was only a dream."

A long fingered hand brushed the matted hair away from his eyes, before finding a resting place on Harry's twitching shoulder. Harry tightened his grip on the material clenched in his fist.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Harry's wide eyes found his headmasters and he shook his head in the negative. He didn't want to have to think about it again never mind talk about it. Dumbledore seemed to hesitate slightly before speaking.

"Sit-up Harry, lets get you more comfortable."

Harry felt two surprisingly strong hands grasp his upper arms and help him upright, until he was leaning awkwardly against the headboard. Becoming more aware, Harry fumbled at his side with his fee hand for his glasses but before he had a chance to find them he felt the coolness of metal rest gently on his nose and the world slipped into focus. Dumbledore's concerned features held Harry's attention. He watched as his Professor raised a hand and startled, blinked dazedly as a tingling sensation ran from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, leaving behind a welcomed coolness. Next, the blankets that before had seemed to aid the mists efforts to hold him down, floated a few inches over his legs, rippled like water over rocks and then floated gently back to cover his body. As well as making him more comfortable, the never before seen or felt experiences helped to take Harry's mind off the night terror that just minutes ago had terrified him so badly he had lost the power of speech. A jaw-popping yawn caught Harry unaware and caused his eyes to stream behind his glasses. Now that the terror has dissipated, exhaustion rushed in to takes its place.

"Go back to sleep Harry. It is much too early for someone so young to be up and about."

It was a testament to how tried and out of sorts he actually was that he didn't object to Dumbledore's words. Still, the thought of going back to sleep was not an inviting one.

"I don't think I can," he whispered in a sleep-roughened voice.

It wasn't until his professor made to stand that Harry realised his hand was still wrapped in the folds of his robe. Feeling the first stirrings of embarrassment, he hastily removed it, even as he felt an alarming unease at the thought of the old wizard leaving. Dumbledore however seemed to read his thoughts.

"I'm not going anywhere Harry. Lie down my boy."

Harry scooted down until the blankets touched his chin, his eyes following his headmaster as he straightened the thick coverings. As before, Dumbledore conjured a plush looking chintz armchair at the side of the bed, before folding his lanky frame to sit in it, his knees touching the recently freshened blankets.

Harry rolled over onto his side so that he was facing the wizard and brought his knees up to form a small ball beneath the burgundy quilt. Although his breathing had returned to normal and he no longer felt paralysed by fear, wariness persisted and he didn't relish the thought of being alone. Too tired to over think his neediness and too distracted to feel embarrassed, Harry simply let the older wizards presence soothe him in a way he was becoming accustomed too. If he had been at his best, some part of his brain would have accused him of being a baby and reminded him that he had dealt with much worse nightmares and visions alone in the past. For now though, that part of his conscience was quiet and he relaxed further into the warmth and comfort his new bed afforded him. When Dumbledore spoke in a low gravely timbre, Harry's eyes were already at half-mast.

"Does your scar hurt at all?"

Harry brought a hand out of the warm cocoon to examine his forehead. He didn't feel anything now but had he felt something when he had first woke? Already the dream was slipping away and fuzzy and he couldn't remember anything but the fear and panic it resulted in. Dropping his hand back to the blanket she shook his head, his glasses becoming askew in the process. Slipping them from his face, he felt a warm hand cover his and take them away.

"Did I wake you up?" he whispered

With his glasses now off, Harry was having a hard time bringing the world into focus and he couldn't tell if his headmaster was dressed for bed or for the day.

"I was already up and drinking my second cup of tea when Fawkes appeared Harry. I have always been an early riser, even as a boy. When I came to Hogwarts as a first year I would wake before anyone else in the dorm and sneak downstairs to the common room. As you know, competition for the fireside seats is fierce Harry especially during the winter mornings. As I was usually the first up I would get the fire going and curl up in the very best armchair; and lulled by the heat and the quiet, more often than not, especially in those first few months, I would again fall soundly asleep. I cannot tell you how many times I found myself in trouble because of my unusual sleeping habits. As I was not in the dorm when the morning alarms sounded I was often seen scrambling to get dressed when the others were getting ready to leave the common room for breakfast. As a result I was often late for my first class, leaving me with the ironic and unfortunate moniker of 'Always Asleep Albus' with my friends…"

Harry smiled sleepily, his eyes closing for longer during blinks.

"…and then there was the disastrous prank I played in my fourth year, which completely changed my nickname to something that I could not in good conscience repeat…."

Had Harry been awake, he might have prodded and begged for the full story, as it was, the boy was fast asleep.

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It was around quarter past nine that same morning when Harry slipped through the portrait leading to the headmaster's office. He had woke a half hour earlier with only a vague recollection of what had disturbed his sleep in the early hours, and an uncomfortable memory of his professor coming to comfort him. Determined to forget the whole incident, he had quickly showered and dressed, the thought of his friends arrival making it particularly easy. As he now descended the iron stairs he could hear the distinct sound of a quill making steady progress across parchment. Reaching the bottom, he saw that as always, the headmaster was seated behind the massive desk, his concentration focussed on the parchments in front of him. Fawkes too was perched in his usual spot beside the desk and trilled a greeting upon seeing him. Harry stood awkwardly for a moment, not really wanting to disturb the older wizard. He thought of taking a seat but the only ones available on the dais were the two in front of the desk and for some peculiar reason he felt an aversion to taking any of them. Instead he walked to the side of the desk and gently stroked the bright red plumage of his rescuer.

"Ah, good morning Harry. I trust you slept well?"

Dumbledore had sat back in his chair and was watching Harry pet Fawkes over the tops of his glasses. Harry felt a heat rise in his cheeks and turned back to look at Fawkes who had nudged his stilled hand in an obvious hint to continue his attentions.

"Yes sir. I'm ummm sorry if I fell asleep in the middle of your story…"

"As you were meant to Harry. Please don't feel uncomfortable; there is nothing wrong or unusual with seeking out comfort when you need it, as I believe I have reminded you before."

Harry cleared his throat as he nodded, his attention going from his professor to Fawkes and back again.

"Now, your friends should soon be with us if I read the time correctly. Any last minute preparations or requests?"

Harry patted Fawkes fondly one more time before leaning against the aged desk and turning his attention fully to Dumbledore, though one hand did find an unused quill and began to spin it against the wood.

"Not that I can think of sir. We moved my trunk and clothes and stuff over to the dorm last night and I've spoken to Dobby about lunch."

"Excellent! Then all that remains is for the guests themselves to arrive in…."

Harry peered curiously at the pocket watch Dumbledore had removed from a pocket.

"…. forty one minutes."

Harry felt a surge of excitement flow through him at the prospect of seeing his best friends. He stood from his slouched position against the desk and rubbed his hands together, his body jittery with expectation. His excess energy must have shown.

"Perhaps something to pass the time Harry?"

Dumbledore stood and made his way around the desk to stand in front of him. He watched the headmaster withdraw his wand and at his gesture, moved to stand to the side of him, curiosity taking over from nervous excitement. Harry watched transfixed as the headmaster raised his wand and whispered an incantation, resulting in a floating cube of light, the colours shifting constantly from one to another. Harry blinked his eyes away from it only when his professor lowered his wand and stepped back towards the desk. Confused, he watched the headmaster re-take his seat and pick up his quill. Just as he opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, Dumbledore spoke.

"A challenge Harry. The aim is to change the shape from what it is to an orb of light."

Although he didn't know the incantation, Harry felt fairly confident it wouldn't take him too long to achieve the desired result.

"Without your wand"

_Huh?_

"Excuse me sir?"

"It is a basic exercise in wandless magic Harry, something I believe you could be proficient in if you set your mind to it."

Harry's mind boggled at the idea.

"But sir, I don't…."

"Try it Harry. Concentrate on smoothing the points and angles, force the light to take the shape you want."

And with that the old man dipped his quill into the waiting inkpot and bowed his head over the parchment.

Harry blinked stupidly for a moment or two before turning back to the floating cube. Walking closer, Harry noted that it was actually revolving slightly but had absolutely no idea of how to begin, or what to do. Scratching the back of his head, Harry glanced back towards his professor but the wizard was diligently writing still and did not appear to be watching his progress. Even Fawkes had tucked his head under a wing. Sighing in frustration, he turned back to the light and, feeling terribly foolish, held out a hand in front of him as he had seen his professors do. His hand felt strangely empty without his wand. Focussing on the light, Harry tried to visualise what he wanted to happen, this is, for the four sharp points to smooth into something more spherical. He wiggled his fingers slightly but unsurprisingly, nothing happened. Determined now to do at least _something_, he frowned behind his glasses and concentrated solely on changing at least one corner. He wasn't sure how long he had been staring at the cube, but when a gentle cough sounded from directly behind him he jumped and twirled, his outstretched hand coming up to shield his face automatically as he hunched his back, making himself a smaller target. It only took a split second for Harry to realise who it was and what he had done, but it was too late, as Dumbledore's sad and serious features attested. Bringing his hand back to his side and straightening, Harry looked down at the new white trainers on his feet, mortified and inexplicably angry.

"Harry…."

The anger swirling within refused to go unheard and before he could check himself, words were tumbling from his mouth.

"I don't want to talk about it! It wasn't…anything. I just…it was….i don't think you would…can we please just leave it for once?! Why do we have to talk about everything all of the time?! I don't want to talk about the bloody Dursley's, I don't want to talk about my bloody feelings and I don't want to talk about the bloody prophecy!!"

"I say!"

Harry turned towards the portraits he hadn't taken notice of before now and saw that the majority of them were staring at him, some shaking their heads. He didn't know who had made the comment but judging by their expressions, the list of possible suspects was long. His anger left him then, just as suddenly as it had appeared and he sagged. He could feel Dumbledore's presence behind him and felt the inevitable onset of guilt.

"I'm sorry…"

He heard Dumbledore release a sigh.

"I know you are. Let us not think on it further Harry, your friends are arriving momentarily and…."

Whatever his professor had been about to say was cut off by the simultaneous roaring of the fireplace and appearance of two people in the centre of the office. Harry had backed away from the commotion on instinct and had ended up with his back pressed against the length of his headmaster, whose hands had descended on his shoulders to reassure and steady him.

And that was how Ron, who had eventually tumbled through the floo, and Hermione, who had steadied her jelly legs from her portkey journey found him. All three teenagers grinned and rushed forward, meeting just below the dais in three-way hug that completely eradicated any remaining angst Harry may have had.

**Next time on Reparo:** Ron and Hermione get settled in at the castle, Harry opens up more and as the week progresses, Harry discovers why some rules are best not broken.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry looked from one face to the other, not entirely surprised by what he saw but still pensive of the inevitable reactions

**Reparo**

Rated: PG13 (Angst, maybe a swear word or two)

Spoilers: Some events from OOTP and before. Nothing beyond that as it's completely AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me!

**Authors Note**: Surprised? I know I am! It seems I have found my muse again so hopefully the chapters will continue to write themselves. Many thanks to my faithful readers and reviewers! You really are what keep me going. I've been lax in my review responses I'm afraid, caught up as I've been in writing the fic but I promise I'll make the time. Your reviews, as always, are considered most kind. Seriously, I'm an extremely paranoid writer, if I don't get much feedback I automatically assume that everyone thinks its rubbish and completely lose the will to write. x

_**Previously**_

_Whatever his professor had been about to say was cut off by the simultaneous roaring of the fireplace and appearance of two people in the centre of the office. Harry had backed away from the commotion on instinct and had ended up with his back pressed against the length of his headmaster, whose hands had descended on his shoulders to reassure and steady him. _

_And that was how Ron, who had eventually tumbled through the floo, and Hermione, who had steadied her jelly legs from her portkey journey found him. All three teenagers grinned and rushed forward, meeting just below the dais in three-way hug that completely eradicated any remaining angst Harry may have had._

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Harry looked from one face to the other, not entirely surprised by what he saw but still pensive of the inevitable reactions. He didn't have to wait long. Hermione, who had been quiet during his recollection except to scold Ron for interrupting with colourful language, stared back at him with glassy eyes and a suspiciously wobbly chin. Ron on the other hand appeared to be turning an alarming shade of red, almost as though he had swallowed one of his brothers joke sweets.

"That lousy _bastard_!!"

As Harry recovered from the shock of the loud outburst he could see that Ron was now standing, his clenched fists shaking at his sides. He could honestly say he had never seen him so furious before. When Hermione stood too, her cheeks glinted in the light from the fire and Harry knew that the wetness had nothing to do with Ron's current mood.

"Calm down Ron." Despite the signs of distress, Hermione's voice was loud and clear.

Feeling odd sitting down while his two emotional friends towered over him, Harry stood too. Hermione had placed herself in front of Ron and had two hands raised in front of her as though to stave off the teenagers anger, or more realistically, to stop him from doing something stupid.

"Calm down? _Calm down_? Did you hear what that bastard did to Harry? What he's _been_ doing? I ought to…."

"There are older and more experienced wizards than you who will deal with this Ronald…."

"Oh yeah? Where? This isn't something new Hermione, its been going on for _years_ and no-one has done a bloody thing to stop it! Well if they won't then I'll round up…"

"Who Ronald? Your brothers? The _DA_?! And what will you do when you get there hmmm? If you raise your wand to a muggle they'll snap in clean in half and you and your merry band of avengers will find yourselves in Azkaban before you can say 'Sorry'."

"It'd be worth it to show that sodding basta…"

Harry looked from one to the other, following the heated argument as though he were watching a muggle tennis match.

"Fine! Go then! If the ministry isn't enough to discourage you then I'm sure Professor Dumbledore wont pose a problem either when he stops you at the door!"

"Yeah? Well at least I'll be doing a damn sight more than he has!"

Harry felt a jolt at that accusation and stepped forward into the fray.

"He did. I mean, he has. He went to see the Dursley's after I showed up."

Hermione spun to face him, her face almost as red as Ron's while Ron, breathing hard and visibly trembling looked at him as though only just remembering he was there. Not surprisingly, it was Hermione who articulated her thoughts first.

"He did? What happened?"

Harry sighed heavily and collapsed back into the armchair behind him hoping to encourage his friends to do likewise. It worked. Ron threw himself onto the couch with a frustrated huff whilst Hermione sunk down to perch at the end of her own chair. Both looked at him expectantly. Harry ran a hand through his hair while he tried to organise his thoughts.

"I'm not really sure to be honest. He said he had words but…."

Ron sat forward with a jolt, his eyes gleaming.

"I bloody well hope he did more than that! He should have kicked Vernon Dursley's arse from Surrey to Scotland and back!"

Hermione turned back to face her angry friend, a frown marring her features.

"Exactly as he would have done to you had you tried to leave the castle Ron. Now stop interrupting!"

Ron paled slightly and Harry could only surmise that he was considering Hermione's words.

"But what Harry?"

Looking away from her sad features, Harry instead focussed on the material of his cuff.

"He was pretty angry when he found out, Dumbledore I mean. He didn't shout or anything but I could tell he was furious. I didn't even know he planned to go to Privet Drive, he didn't say anything and I didn't find out until he came back. He didn't go into specifics and I didn't ask for details and we haven't really spoken about it since."

When Harry finished speaking the common room fell quiet, with only the crackle of the fire and the light snores of a portrait at the other side of the room to keep it from total silence. Glancing towards the windows, the blackness outside surprised him. Had he been talking for that long? He shouldn't have been shocked really; the whole day had passed really quickly. After the reunion in the office, Shacklebolt, who had accompanied Hermione on her journey, had asked to speak to the headmaster in private and the three teenagers had sat in a buzz of excitement around the fireplace until Dumbledore returned alone. Hermione and Ron had both stood when they spotted him and Harry remembered slowly following their example, only then realising how accustomed he had become to the wizards presence. And too wondering when he had stopped thinking of the man as only the headmaster of his school. Dumbledore had shooed them back into their seats before taking one himself and after arranging some tea and biscuits had calmly but very clearly informed them of the do's and don'ts of their stay. He had extracted promises from all three of them that they would follow his instructions as best they could, and Harry had been taken aback by the solemnity of his friend's responses. Moody had joined them briefly, again with the purpose of speaking to Dumbledore in private, but had spent a few moments with the three of them, his eye spinning as wildly as his warnings. Ron had seemed extremely troubled after they had left the grand office and were slowly making their way to the tower, new password in mind. After some needling Harry had finally discovered that his best friend was terrified of the cranky wizard and both he and Hermione had ribbed him about it until they had reached the fat lady.

Harry had managed to avoid the subject of the Dursley's until after dinner by firing question after question at his visitors. It had worked pretty well until Hermione decided that he had avoided the subject long enough. Not for the first time, Harry realised just how persuasive and perceptive his intelligent friend really was.

"Are you ok Harry?"

Harry jumped slightly when the quiet was broken by Hermione's voice, his focus snapping back to the present. Hermione was still perched at the edge of her chair, her expression concerned. When he glanced over at Ron he could see that his friend had lost the vivid red that had dominated his features moments ago and was slouched against the sofa cushions, resigned it seemed to his helplessness. He thought carefully before responding.

" I will be. I was pretty messed up last week, when I arrived. I don't know what I would have done if Dumbledore hadn't been here when I showed up. But he was and he's been…. well, different I suppose. Not bad different or Moody different just…. its kinda hard to explain."

He felt about as articulate as a quill. But Hermione was nodding her head in encouragement and possibly understanding so he supposed he must have been making some sense. That was confirmed when his bushy haired friend spoke.

"Well of course its different Harry! Professor Dumbledore has always been there for you as your headmaster and to some degree your friend and protector. But there has been a formality there that the headmaster couldn't break for many reasons, as you know. With you living here now and Dumbledore taking responsibility for you your relationship was bound to change. Don't you see? He's made himself your guardian Harry…. he's only now getting the chance to act like one."

Harry squirmed slightly in his seat, a flush of colour painting his cheeks. Ron, perhaps to redeem himself in Hermione's eyes, put in his two sickles.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about mate. I still need my mum and dad and I'm sure if you asked Bill or Ginny or the twins they would say the same. Sure they can be a right pain in the backside sometimes, not letting me do this or that then _nagging_ me to do other things and my mum is no picnic when I manage to get on her bad side. Still, I don't know where I'd be without them…."

"I don't know where you'd be without _me_ half the time Ronald! Honestly…"

Harry snorted in laughter at the look of indignation Ron sported. Hermione, turning her back on Ron, flicked some hair from her eyes before speaking.

"As much as it pains me to admit it Harry, Ron's right" she stated matter of factly.

Ron's frown instantly melted into a smile.

A sudden burst of gold and orange above their heads had all three of them ducking for cover and calling out various yelps of fright. Fawkes materialised from the flames and swooped elegantly to perch on the low table before the fire, immediately singing a melodious note that served to calm the two young wizards and witch.

"Bloody hell, does he always do that?"

"Language Ronald!"

"Give over Hermione"

Harry, ignoring the question and traded barbs, walked over to Fawkes and sat on the table beside him. Fawkes trilled in a personnel greeting and accepted Harry's petting for a moment, before hopping to the side and launching again into the air. All three heads tilted upwards as the magnificent bird lapped the room several times before gliding towards the staircase and disappearing up the stairs.

"Where's he going?" Ron wondered aloud.

"Isn't it obvious Ron? We've to go to bed." Hermione answered, in such a way as to insinuate someone would have to be dim witted indeed not to have interpreted the sign. Harry was just glad he hadn't wondered aloud.

Glancing towards the clock atop the mantle, Harry saw it was actually after midnight, and as though his body had only just realised the hour, he felt a wave of fatigue roll over him producing a yawn he didn't try to suppress. He was actually surprised he hadn't felt the pull of sleep before now, considering his rest was disturbed last night.

"Well I for one don't plan to disobey Professor Dumbledore on my first night here so I'm going to bed. I'll meet you boys here in the morning for breakfast. Good night!"

Harry watched as Hermione picked up her discarded cardigan and headed for the staircase leading to the girl's dormitory.

"Umm, Hermione, will you be ok up there by yourself?"

Ron sounded a mix between nervous and concerned. Hermione paused at the foot of the stone staircase and Harry wasn't sure whether or not she would take offence to the question. With girls it was hard to tell. Either way, he agreed with Ron asking and would probably have done so himself had exhaustion not been making him sway slightly.

He needn't have worried though. Hermione's face softened into a gentle smile as she looked at them.

"I'll be perfectly fine boy's. I'll have a very handsome male watching over me all night."

And before either could comment she spun and ascended the steps. Ron's reaction was predictable.

"What does she mean '_a very handsome male'_? Who's she talking about?"

Harry smirked as he made his way to the stairs, a red faced Ron trailing behind him. Had he not been so tired, he could really have wound his friend up. As it was he was finding it difficult negotiating the steps.

"I'll give you a clue Ron. He's about two foot tall, has redder hair than you and can carry a tune."

"Fawkes. Right. I knew that. Well that's ok then."

As Harry changed into his pyjamas and collapsed into his old bed, he couldn't help but wonder when Ron would finally realise his feelings.

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The next morning dawned bright and clear for the first time in days and as Harry and his friends made their way to the great hall for breakfast he was sure that the castle itself was feeling cheered by the change in weather if its playfulness was anything to go by. It was just as well they had set off from the common room a little earlier (Hermione's suggestion) as the staircases had swung energetically in all directions as they attempted to get from floor to floor. When they eventually stepped off in the entrance hall a suit of armour had blocked their path and demanded a dance with Hermione. Hermione had reluctantly complied, despite Ron's grumblings and they had managed to reach the great hall on time with all their limbs.

The hall itself was bathed in early morning sunlight as they entered and Harry could see the blue skies overhead courtesy of the enchanted ceiling.

"Good morning children! Come have a seat."

Dumbledore sat at his usual position at the head of the table and looked particularly resplendent in silver and meadow green robes. The light from above set the silver edging sparkling and made the whiteness of his beard and hair seem ethereal. Moody, on the other hand, was a direct contrast in drab grey and muted blue, his dark, grey streaked hair sitting lank and dull against his misshapen head. Whilst Dumbledore seemed to personify the very light the wizard fought for, Moody seemed happy to encourage the impression his name hinted at. Harry took the seat to Dumbledore's right and immediately felt the wash of the powerful wizards aura as it brushed and settled against his own, almost as though it had given him a magical once-over. It was a comforting feeling and one, though he would never admit, he had missed both last night and especially this morning. Ron and Hermione settled to Harry's right and before anyone had a chance to exchange words, a spread of delicious smelling food appeared before them. Ron's exclamation of excitement was slightly dampened, sitting as he was across from Mad-eye but his red headed friend still managed to rub his hands together in anticipation.

"Well what you waiting for? Tuck in!"

Ron set to the task of filling his plate first and Harry couldn't tell if it was hunger that drove his friend or the fact that Moody had barked the instruction. Either way he had done so with military efficiency.

"What plans do you three have today?"

Harry was distracted from answering the headmaster when the bowl of scrambled eggs he had just served himself from and was about to place back on the table, tipped once more of its own accord and distributed a fair amount of the fluffy eggs onto the small pile he already had. Harry looked from his plate to Dumbledore, suspecting his involvement, but his professor's attention had shifted to Hermione, who had begun to speak.

"Well, Harry and Ron are planning a chess tournament here in the hall so I thought I'd take the chance to do some light reading in the library sir. Then we plan to meet for lunch and spend the afternoon exploring the castle…"

"Explore the castle? I would have thought that you three of all people would know every nook and cranny of this place by heart, the amount of sneaking about and adventures, not to mention trouble you've found yourself in…"

"I don't know about that Alastor. I've been here for many a year by anyone's standards and continue to be surprised by the castle, especially during the summer months when it does not have the distraction of the children. As I'm sure our young Griffindors here will discover…"

When Harry glanced up from his plate, Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling brightly as though he were harbouring a secret known only to him.

"So that's what that was all about this morning…." Ron mumbled thoughtfully, and around half a chewed sausage. His slip in manners was punished by Hermione's sharp elbow.

"_Ow!_ Mione, lay _off_!"

Mad-eye chuckled gruffly, his magical eye for once focussed solely on a worried looking Ron.

"Better get used to it lad, in a few years time when your shacked up with a pretty little witch this is all you'll get! At least this one looks set to keep you alive that long!"

When Harry glanced at his friends he couldn't say who was the deeper red. Fortunately Dumbledore stepped in to steer the conversation back to safer ground, as he was wont to do.

"I am quite sure you will have fun exploring, but in case I am wrong, as has been known to happen…"

Harry looked from Dumbledore to his nearly empty plate, swallowing hard to suppress the spike of mixed emotion.

"…then I am equally sure the room of requirement will prove itself an entertaining distraction."

Harry hadn't even considered the room of requirement but now that he did, he wondered on its capabilities. Just how far would the enchanted room go? The thought of finding out had him gulping down the remainder of his pumpkin juice, eager, as he was to discuss the opportunities away from the eyes and ears of the adults in the room.

"You appear to be finished Harry. Care to accompany me to the hallway for a moment? Your friends should be finished by the time you return."

Dumbledore had stood and Harry let his eyes drift upwards warily. Had he done something wrong already? They had gone to bed a little late last night, was that it? When emerald green met azure blue in question, Harry felt a little nudge against his magic and an accompanying wink. Well, he guessed it couldn't be anything too drastic. Swinging his legs over the bench and standing, Harry glanced briefly at his friends, both of whom looked fairly nonchalant, before following the headmaster's long strides.

Once in the hall and with the doors to the great hall closed behind him, Harry stood awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with his hands. He finally settled for driving them into the pockets of his jeans. Dumbledore turned to face him and dipped his head to look at him over the tops of his glasses.

"You've done nothing wrong dear boy, please stop worrying."

Harry felt himself blush and lowered his head to stare at his feet. Was he so transparent? So _fragile_?

"I only wanted a moment or two alone to enquire as to how it went last night? I assume you told your friends what happened?"

Dumbledore had started to walk slowly away from the doors and towards the staircase closest to them. Harry automatically fell into step.

"Umm, yeah, I did. It kinda went as expected I think. I mean, Hermione got pretty upset and Ron, well, there was a moment or two when I actually thought he was going to jump on his broom and make for Surrey. That's how pis…umm, angry he was. Sir."

Harry cringed at his near slip. Having reached the stairs, he watched as his professor gathered his robe in one hand and used the other to ease himself down to sit on a stone step. He hadn't seemed to notice his last minute correction.

"Ah, well, that is one notion I would have disabused him of in short order Harry. Understandable yes but not in anyway acceptable. I hope he does not still harbour ambitions to set the Dursley's to rights?"

Harry could have kicked himself. What was he playing at? He could get Ron _expelled_ if he didn't watch what he was saying. Thoroughly disgusted with his conversation skills, not to mention his loyalty, he spun and lowered himself to sit beside the old wizard.

"No sir, I don't think he meant to _really_ go to surrey or anything, he was just angry and upset and…"

"I understand Harry. Only too well. It is not however a path one wants to start down. Revenge, as justified as it may seem, is never the answer."

Harry played distractedly with a shoelace as he considered those words. Then the question was tumbling out of his mouth.

"Ron's not in trouble is he? I wouldn't, I mean, he doesn't…" Harry trailed off, not entirely sure what he was trying to say but worried sick he had landed his friend in it.

Dumbledore turned then to face him, his eyebrows rising. He seemed to consider something for a moment before he began to speak.

"This is a personal conversation m'boy, not a conference between student and teacher. I want you to feel comfortable telling me things or asking me questions without fear of what your headmaster may think of it."

Harry squinted his eyes behind his glasses. He said the first thing that popped into his mind.

"But…. you _are_ my headmaster."

Dumbledore chuckled then, his shoulders shaking slightly with mirth.

"Indeed I am Harry. Indeed I am."

This was turning out to be one of the most bizarre conversations Harry could remember having. And having conversed with Tom Riddle on more than one occasion, that was really saying something.

"I don't understand sir."

Dumbledore sighed then, a deep, weary sigh and Harry wondered if his thick headedness was the cause.

"How can you? You have had but one too brief flare of what I am speaking of. How can I expect you to understand that which you have never experienced?"

An uneasy feeling settled low in Harry's belly. Dumbledore seemed to be ruminating rather than asking a direct question so Harry didn't bother commenting. To be honest, he wasn't sure what to say anyway. He wasn't even sure of _what_ they were talking about anymore.

"A conversation for another time Harry, when we are not in danger of running foul of Peeves. I had not planned to speak about this at all in fact. My main reason for asking you out here was to enquire as to how _you_ were. We seem to had wandered off the topic slightly."

Completely bemused by the twists and turns of the conversation and having more questions than ever, Harry simply shrugged in answer.

"I'm afraid body language has its limits Harry. Perhaps you could try something else?"

Harry was sure he had heard Mrs Weasley use that exact line with Ron. His uneasiness morphed into something warm.

"I'm ok. It's great having Ron and Hermione here obviously and last night could have been worse than it was. I was actually dreading it to be honest but now I'm not sure why. It isn't like they don't know what kind of people the Dursley's are…."

Harry paused, staring at some point down the hall, his brow creased with thought.

"Harry?"

He snapped back to Dumbledore, who's own brow was crinkled. The eye contact only lasted a few heartbeats before Harry again sought out his errant shoelace.

"I was just thinking that the Dursley's seem pretty insignificant compared with everything else." he said quietly.

Harry felt the headmaster shift beside him, obviously uncomfortable sitting on the cold stone. Or perhaps with the conversation. Harry realised at the same time he had uttered the words that he was potentially opening a can of worms he wasn't ready to deal with. But the words were out there and he couldn't take them back. Dumbledore seemed to be considering his next words very carefully if the pause was anything to go by.

"I do not believe the Dursley's abuse to be insignificant. But I can imagine that 'everything else' must seem overwhelming."

Harry flinched at the word abuse. It wasn't a word he felt comfortable using or hearing. And as for everything else…

"I don't think I want to talk about this anymore" he said quietly.

Dumbledore shifted again, his knee bumping against Harry's. Neither said anything for several long seconds. When his professor did speak again it was in a tone just as quiet as Harry's had been.

"Then we will not."

The muscles across Harry's back relaxed marginally and he felt himself slump. So relaxed was he that he very nearly lost his balance when Dumbledore rocked to the side to bump his shoulder against him.

"I think perhaps we should rescue your friends from whatever embarrassing conversation Alastor no doubt has them engaged in."

Harry looked towards the doors then up at Dumbledore, a smirk forming on his lips.

"No need to rush sir"

He was sure his own eyes were twinkling just as brightly as his headmasters. Dumbledore chuckled again, standing with help of a hand on Harry's shoulder. He held out his own hand to pull Harry to his feet and both took the opportunity to stretch and brush off the dust from their clothes.

"Indeed? Well I'm afraid I would be remiss in my duties if I did not shield the children in my care from Alastor's sometimes-colourful tongue. Not to mention what Molly Weasley would do to me…"

Harry chuckled then too as he watched his professor pull a face as though in fright. He fell into step again as Dumbledore started towards the great hall. An earlier question popped into his mind.

"Did you charm that bowl at breakfast to fill my plate?"

Dumbledore paused at the threshold of the doorway, the open door held in his hand.

"Bowl? I'm afraid I don't know what your talking about Harry."

Harry reckoned then and there that his headmaster may have been the greatest wizard of their time, but he was a terrible liar. Like him, the eyes gave it away.

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It was perhaps just as well that Ron and Hermione would be in separate parts of the castle for what was left of the morning, for neither was speaking to the other by the time Harry and Dumbledore had re-entered the hall. As Harry sat now, contemplating his next move on the chessboard, he tried again to speak to Ron.

"You'd be better just saying sorry now."

Ron looked up from the board, his eyes bulging slightly.

"Why the bloody hell should _I _apologise? It wasn't me who started it!"

Silence descended again as both boys studied the bored looking chess pieces. Harry moved his knight two over and one to the left, to put him in position to take Ron's rook. Both pieces gestured rudely at each other.

"I'm just saying, you know what girls are like. It'd be better in the long run if you just apologised now and saved yourself the grief."

Ron moved his queen to intercept Harry's knight, and Harry watched as the vicious little woman speared his armour-clad piece until it was dust. So much for that. Ron perked up a little though.

"I suppose your right. It was all Moody's fault anyway. Hermione thinks I was agreeing with him just because I _said_ I agreed with him. It's not like I was going to _not_ agree. Girls…honestly, they're completely clueless sometimes."

Harry wasn't quite sure on what Ron had agreed to but he felt it better not to ask and set his volatile friend off again. He decided a change of subject was in order.

"I've been thinking about what Dumbledore said about the room of requirement. We've only ever used it for the DA but I'm pretty sure it could be used for other things. You just really need it for a purpose right?"

Ron rubbed his chin thoughtfully, sitting back from the board.

"Well yeah, I mean I think that's how it works. Why, what were you thinking?"

Harry moved a pawn to block Ron's sadistic little queen from taking his bishop. He smirked when she put her hands on her hips.

"Well, it's only been a week but I'm starting to feel a little claustrophobic…."

"I can understand that mate. I was grounded for the first week of the holidays and had cabin fever by the second day. Do you think the room could, I dunno, maybe simulate the outdoors?"

Harry was curious as to what Ron had done to have managed to get grounded on his first week back but didn't want to interrupt the conversation to ask. Maybe later.

"That's what I've been wondering. I figure it's worth a shot."

"We should speak to Hermione about it…"

"Speak to me about what _Ronald_?"

Both boys snapped their heads to the side at the distinctly cold tone of their female friend. Like Ron's queen, Hermione stood at the head of the table with her hands on her hips, her eyes drawing daggers at Ron. Harry kicked his friend's shin under the table and when he turned to glare at him, gave him what he hoped was a significant look. Ron's cheeks began to heat up as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Umm, I wanted to say sorry for earlier mione, I wasn't really agreeing with mad-eye you know."

Hermione continued to glare at him for a few seconds and just when Harry was about to jump in and play peacemaker, Hermione huffed out her breath and nodded her head in a swift jerk. When she smiled slyly, Harry knew all was forgiven.

"I know Ron, but it was the principal of the matter. Anyway, lets forget about it. What did you want to talk about?"

Ron, obviously relieved to have been forgiven so quickly, jumped into the recap as though scared she would change her mind. Both looked at her when he had finished. Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Well, I suppose it's worth a try. I haven't read anything about it before but that could be because no one has tried it. Although…."

Harry's smile faltered a little.

"…If its real fresh air you want Harry, why not go to the astronomy tower? It's still within the castle after all."

Harry blinked back at her for a moment. _Well, duh…_

"Or we could do that…." He heard Ron mutter.

"If you are both finished with your barbaric game, we could go now before lunch. That gives us all afternoon to explore and experiment with the Room of requirement."

Harry made the decision by knocking his king over, much to its outrage, and standing up from the bench.

"I was losing this game anyway." He shrugged, more to pacify the vindictive looking queen than Ron.

The three made their way at an easy pace towards the tower and Harry mostly listened to his best friends converse, distracted as he was by the thought of actually being outside. He had resigned himself to the fact he probably wasn't going to see sunlight in the immediate future, but now that the opportunity was here he could hardly wait. The castle seemed smaller than ever. Harry climbed the narrow staircase last and paused only briefly when a cool fresh breeze whistled down the shaft from the opened door above. Man, that felt good.

Hurrying up the last steps, he stepped out onto the ancient stone and into the sunlight, closing his eyes as a strong breeze ruffled his hair and clothes almost in greeting. He had never considered himself an outdoorsy type before but now, opening his eyes and staring out at the beautiful Scottish scenery, he wasn't so sure. Walking over to the edge he leaned against the low wall and breathed deeply, the scent of nature filling his lungs. He could live with this for a while, he thought. Having somewhere to satisfy his need for fresh air and sunshine all within the safety of the school.

And then he heard it.

Amidst his friends gentle bickering, the wind and the calls of distant birds, there was a sound that didn't fit. It was disturbingly familiar and caused Goosebumps to rise along his arms and neck, producing a shiver that had nothing to do with the weather.

"What _is_ that?"

Ron and Hermione had both quietened down and were standing at his sides, looking too for the source or the warped screech. Harry _knew_ he had heard it before but it sounded somehow off, like a mournful version of a happy memory. At the same time realisation dawned, a sudden blur of something huge and feathery swooped by them, smattering them with water and causing all three to duck against the wall in front of them. Harry stood first, his heartbeat hammering wildly in his ears.

"Buckbeak!!" _Sirius…._

He felt his friends stand too, but Hermione grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around distracted him from following the hippogriffs direction.

"What!" he near yelled, his emotions spinning wildly.

Harry noted too late that Hermione appeared pale and shaky, and then his eyes found what hers had. Blood. It was splattered against the wall in front of them, across Hermione's hair and blouse and when he looked down, horrified, he saw his hands, as though they had been painted in crimson. _It wasn't water…._

"Oh Merlin…"he thought he heard Ron say.

Harry felt his stomach roll as it attempted to rid itself of this mornings breakfast but he paid it no heed. Looking out at the grounds he instantly spotted the dark mass amid the grass, just short of the forbidden forest. His stomach heaved again, causing his eyes to water. The smell of grass and wood had been replaced with the coppery scent of blood and he could feel the slickness of it between and beneath his fingers when he grasped the wall to steady himself.

"We need to get help…"

Harry could only just hear Hermione's thick voice over the buzzing in his ears.

Without pausing for thought and running on instinct, Harry spun from the wall and sprinted down the stairs, the shouts from his friends echoing around him.

_Buckbeak…..Sirius…._

Harry ran as fast as his legs would take him, the sounds of footfalls behind him ignored.

"Harry, no!"

Won't die…!

As he jumped the last steps into the entrance hall his foot caught on the stone and he experienced the horrible feeling of falling through the air. His knee connected sharply with the floor and he groaned in pain, but before his friends could catch up he was running again, gritting his teeth against the throbbing in his leg.

The Great doors opened without incident and Harry took off across the courtyard, his feet meeting grass within a couple of seconds. He skidded to a halt, disorientated and gasping for breath, and trying desperately to locate the dying animal who was somewhere on the grounds. _Won't die!!_

"Harry! _Wait_!"

Harry didn't wait. He took off again, his knee protesting over the sudden motion, and headed in the direction he thought he had last seen the bird. As he crested a small hill he saw what he had been looking for, a writhing mass of black and steel grey just yards ahead, still distinguishable despite being in the shadow of the forest beyond.

"Buckbeak!" his voice sounded wobbly and hoarse even to him.

He half ran half slipped down the embankment and covered the small distance to stand a few metres away from the distressed bird. It was obvious the injured hippogriff had crash-landed, as there was a disturbing trail of darkened grass directly behind him. As Harry gazed through wide glassy eyes, he could see a pool of dark, almost black liquid around the quieting creature. And then he felt a strong hand wrap around his bicep and spin him around.

"What are you _doing_ Harry? You're not supposed to be out here!" Ron was red faced and sweaty from his unplanned exercise but his eyes were blazing. Harry yanked his arm away from the firm grip and felt his own anger flare.

"Buckbeak is dying Ron in case you didn't notice! What was I supposed to do! Leave him to get on with it?!"

Harry could see Hermione bow low from the corner of his eye and turned to look as she hesitantly approached the wounded bird. Ron's voice sounded from behind him.

"What your _supposed_ to do it tell Dumbledore! That's what he's been trying to get into that thick head of yours! He's going to have a fit when he finds you out here!"

"_Harry_…" Hermione whispered.

Ignoring his friend's lecture, Harry turned and bowed shakily, before coming to rest on his battered knees before the now still hippogriff. Harry felt his heart stutter. _No…_

"He's not…. He hasn't…." he couldn't even bring himself to say it.

Hermione, her face wet with tears and streaks of blood turned to face him. Her eyes told him what she couldn't say aloud. A wave of despair and sickness washed over him just as the wind had done earlier.

"We need to get Dumbledore…." He thought he heard Hermione say to Ron, but he was too focussed on the still creature in front of him to really be sure.

"We cant just leave him here mione…wait, what is that!"

The tone of Ron's voice broke through and Harry blinked dazedly as he swivelled his head to bring his friends into view. Ron seemed to be pointing in the direction of the forest and Hermione was creeping forward, stooped and peering into the darkness.

"I can't see anything Ron, I think you're in shoc…oh my god"

Harry stood then on shaky legs, his attention moving from a white faced Hermione to the forest ahead. And then he saw it. Or should he say _it's_. Several black shapes were moving within the darkness the canopy provided and from this distance they looked human, or at least humanoid in shape. That was confirmed when Harry caught sight of a pair of glowing white eyes.

"_Vampires_" he heard Hermione whisper as she slowly withdrew her wand from a pocket in her jeans.

Harry felt his breath catch and heard Ron swear shakily behind him. What had been indistinct shapes before were now clearly what Hermione had described. Dressed in black robes and with bluish white skin they could be nothing else. With a burst of speed that clearly no human possessed, three vile creatures were standing a few feet from them, protected by the shadow of the ancient trees behind them. All three teens jumped back in shock and fear, and not one of the wands held out were steady.

Harry wracked his brain, trying to think of the curses and spells he had learnt this past year but in his panic, his mind refused to co-operate. The one directly facing him bared its teeth by parting it's deep blue lips, the twin incisors gleaming menacingly. When it spoke, the sound that issued was a mix between a rusty hinge and crunched gravel.

"_Potter_…."

Harry's reaction to hearing his surname was lost when a burst of orange and red exploded directly in front of him. As he lowered his raised arm he could see that the three vampires had fallen back a step and were snarling at the phoenix that hovered before them.

"You have no right to be here. We had a deal."

Harry spun at the sound of Dumbledore's voice and watched as the man glided past him to stand beside his familiar. He could feel the power radiating from the wizard and obviously so too could the vampires, as they shrunk back slightly in his presence. Ron and Hermione both ran over to him and the three formed a tight line, wands still held at the ready.

"_A deal made with the dead Dumbledore. Are you really so foolish_?"

Harry cringed at the harsh voice, this time from a tall black robed figure that had strolled forward from the woods. From this angle the silhouette reminded him of Voldemort, a thought he forced to the back of his mind. The three undead who had threatened them earlier shrank back in deference to this new speaker.

"Foolish? Perhaps. But not so much that I would bargain with the Dark Lord, as you have so obviously done Antolis."

The deathly white face broke into a feral grin and a laugh that sounded like a rusty saw against metal issued from between his parted lips. Harry saw his headmaster whisper something to Fawkes and the bird disappeared in a flash of flame.

"_Your wards do not affect us Dumbledore. Give us what we want and I promise you your children will not be harmed on their return_."

Dumbledore's head lowered to study the wand in his hand. Harry could feel the hairs on his arms stand as static electricity flowed around him.

"It was a mistake to threaten the children Antolis. And too to make a deal with Voldemort."

The three teenagers jumped when the vampire referred to by Antolis hissed through his teeth and stepped forward.

"_I am not afraid of you Dumbledore_."

Harry's head, and those of his friends, whipped round when a large hand fell onto his shoulder. Moody had his real eye on them and his magical one on the scene in front of them and Harry couldn't be sure what he was more pissed about. He snapped his head around when Dumbledore spoke again, knowing that something big was about to happen by the oppressive magic in the air.

"And that, Antolis, is your biggest mistake."

Everything seemed to slow down after that. Someone was pushing Harry down at the same time Dumbledore raised his wand. He felt his friends bang into him, all elbows and heads as the three were pushed roughly to the grass. The blue light of a protego appeared just as Harry caught a glimpse of a blinding light issuing from his professors wand and felt the heat of it slam against the blue cocoon he was wrapped in. He thought he heard Hermione scream but it was hard to hear over the roar of wind and magic. The light became so intense that Harry was forced to hide his face beneath his arms and knew Ron and Hermione were doing the same. He couldn't be sure how long it lasted, seconds or minutes, but he knew precisely when it ended. He raised his head from his arms and blinked against the sunlight, feeling battered and drained. He was aware of Hermione's soft sobs and Ron's muttering, but it was Dumbledore that held his eye. The wizard, still radiating an awesome power, was walking towards them, his eyes taking in the three blood stained, mud covered, grass streaked shaking teenagers. Moody was stalking towards the forest and stopped to speak quietly and briefly with the headmaster before slapping him on the back and continuing into the murky darkness. There was no sign of Antolis or any of his brethren. Harry forced his body into a sitting position, rather than on his hands and knees and hissed in pain when his swollen joint protested the movement.

"Do not move"

Dumbledore was suddenly kneeling before them, his eyes scanning them, presumably looking for injuries. Harry opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn't sure what but a look from his headmaster had his mouth closing with a little snap.

"Are any of you hurt?"

Hermione shook her head, unable, as she was to speak amidst her continued crying. Ron looked shell-shocked when Harry glanced at him but his friend still managed to shake his head to indicate he was unhurt. That only left him. When he looked at his professor through his fringe he could see he was waiting for an answer. A swell of emotion rushed him then, causing his windpipe to tighten and his eyes to fill. He didn't think he could speak if his life depended on it. Dumbledore seemed to recognise this as, in lieu of an answer he instead ran his wand in an intricate wave across him, frowning as sigils and lights appeared above his body. Harry visibly jumped when bandages appeared on his knee, wrapped firmly and securely from mid thigh to mid shin. As he watched his professor stand, he managed to choke out one word.

"Buckbeak…"

Dumbledore looked both sad and resigned when he glanced across at the hippogriffs body. He didn't say anything for a few moments.

"There is nothing that can be done children. It is a travesty that he was used in such a way and died in such a manner."

Harry felt the tears fall but didn't raise a hand to wipe them. He felt completely drained, as though he had been the one who had taken on a horde of vampires and survived.

"Come, let us get back to the safety of the castle."

Ron helped Hermione to her feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulders in silent support. Just as Harry was about to dig his hands into the soft soil below him in order to hoist himself up, he felt his body rise and straighten and his feet find the grass below him. Holding his hands out at side of him like a trapeze artist, he struggled for a moment to find his balance as he tried not to put his weight on his injured knee. And then he was floating above the ground, his toes brushing against the tips of the charred grass below. As he started forward, following in his friends wake but in front of the man powering his journey, he felt the final snap of something within and let the tears flow fully and silently.

**Next time on Reparo**: The after effects of the attack, trouble with wards and Harry receives some lessons.


	11. Chapter 11

**Reparo**

Rated: PG13 (Angst, maybe a swear word or two)

Spoilers: Some events from OOTP and before. Nothing beyond that as it's completely AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me!

**Authors Note**: Authors Note: I struggled terribly with this chapter, hence the gargantuan gap between posts. I felt as though I had to get the 'big prophecy talk' out of the way so that I could introduce more of the plot, I'm not sure how well I managed but could not bring myself to re-read it one more time  To my faithful readers, wonderful reviewers and those new to the story: Thank-you for your continued support and patience. I know you've read this before so forgive me in advance but it is true that each review I received, even months after posting (_especially_ months after posting in this instance!) drew me back to the laptop and spurred me into writing another paragraph or line. If you can spare a few moments after reading I'd love to hear from you.

_**Previously**_

"_Come, let us get back to the safety of the castle."_

_Ron helped Hermione to her feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulders in silent support. Just as Harry was about to dig his hands into the soft soil below him in order to hoist himself up, he felt his body rise and straighten and his feet find the grass below him. Holding his hands out at side of him like a trapeze artist, he struggled for a moment to find his balance as he tried not to put his weight on his injured knee. And then he was floating above the ground, his toes brushing against the tips of the charred grass below. As he started forward, following in his friends wake but in front of the man powering his journey, he felt the final snap of something within and let the tears flow fully and silently._

oOooOOooOo

Harry blew a cool breath across the hot chocolate cradled in his hands, his bleary eyes fixed on the flickering flames of the fire in front of him. The sitting room was dark, save for the light emanating from within the fireplace and one small lamp beside Dumbledore's favoured armchair, causing the corners of the room to blacken and disappear and the shadows to lengthen and merge. Harry was no friend of the dark and preferred the warmth and illumination of the light far better, but at this moment in time, engulfed in the heat and gentle glow of the fire he did not feel the inclination to complain or move. Indeed, he didn't even seek the comfort of a chair or sofa, but instead hunkered down further on the colourful fireside rug, his legs crossed under him, feet tucked under each knee, his back protected from the chill of the shadows by a blanket.

He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there, his mind fuzzy from both exhaustion and pain potion, but it must have been at least an hour. Dumbledore had left him on the sofa, knee elevated, to see both Hermione and Ron settled, but not before insisting he rest and reiterating that he not move from his place. He recalled the squirmy feeling in his stomach as the headmaster had draped the blanket over him, and the flush that had stole across his features which he knew had nothing to do with his proximity to the fire. As someone with little experience of being fussed over, Harry was finding the whole thing....confusing, especially in light of his own cold upbringing. Was it normal for someone, particularly an adult, to continue to show concern even if that someone were angry? Harry knew in no uncertain terms that Dumbledore were angry with him and truth be told, he couldn't really blame him.

His discussion with the headmaster following their return to Dumbledore's office had been fuelled by pain and fright and anger, now he thought back on it. He cringed as he thought of how he had lost his control, again, unconsciously cracking the glass of what were probably irreplaceable antiques that were unfortunate enough to be situated near him. That was bad enough, but it was the angry words that had left his mouth that Harry regretted most. Apportioning blame where none was due, shouting about being treated like an adult whilst throwing a very childlike tantrum, and worse, calling Dumbledore a hypocrite for expecting Harry to _not_ do something about it when he had practically _endorsed_ his past crusades. Harry ducked his head so that his chin disappeared beneath the blanket. In hindsight he knew he hadn't meant any of those things, well not _all_ of them anyway, but it was getting harder to control the anger that surged through him with each incident incited by Voldemort.

Dumbledore had tried throughout his tirade to reason and calm him, Harry recalled, but the fire that felt as though it were consuming his organs refused to be doused by the gently delivered words of his headmaster and on he had went, building and building until his body trembled and glass began cracking around him. Ron and Hermione had already been sent upstairs with Wilspy and thankfully had not been there to witness it, especially when Dumbledore eventually lost his cool and brought him to heel with a display of frustrated anger that had stopped Harry in his tracks. His bellow of '_Enough_!' really had been enough to stop him, stunned, but it seemed Harry had over stepped the mark as his headmaster proceeded to take him to task firstly for leaving the castle and then, confusingly, for believing for one second that any of the day's events were his fault. What really had the wizard steamed apparently was the comment concerning his own perceived _support_ of Harrys past antics, not so much in what he said but in the way he said it. '_That could not be further from the truth Mr Potter'_. The form of address had reminded Harry in a startling moment of clarity just whom he was speaking to.

Dumbledore's stern words ended just as suddenly as they had started, Harry recalled, and the old wizard had collapsed into a chair facing him, one hand supporting his head, his fingers massaging the deep wrinkles lining his forehead above his closed eyes. In the loud silence that followed, Harrys mind quite suddenly conjured a forgotten memory of Mrs Weasley, her hair and hands flying dramatically as she first cuddled then scolded the twins following a particularly dangerous stunt in the back garden. He had recalled that after she had sent the two red faced boys to their room she too had collapsed into a tall backed wooden chair and buried her face in her hands.

The silence lasted only a few minutes but to Harry it had felt like an eternity and it was he who had eventually broken it, apologising quietly, _again_, for his outburst. Dumbledore had neither accepted nor rejected his whispered apology but instead had risen wearily from his chair and had assisted Harry to his feet and then to the sitting room, where he had settled him down with blankets and hot chocolate and gentle concern. He had left after tending to Harrys swollen knee to tend to both Ron and Hermione, leaving him with a mild admonishment not to move from his place.

The loud cracking of wood in the fireplace snapped Harry from his reverie and he glanced about himself, checking he was still alone. The cup in his hands had long since been drained and he placed the cool cup to the side, its cool exterior no longer offering the comfort it had whilst being hot. Just as the sluggish thought of seeing himself to bed passed across his mind, the distinctive click of a door sounded beyond the sofa and new light swept into the room, accompanied by the soft sounds of muted footsteps and swishing fabric. Harry's heart beat jumped up a notch, as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn't and had just had the presence of mind to find his feet when the imposing figure of Albus Dumbledore came into view. Harry jumped up and just managed to subdue a flinch when his injured knee complained with a sharp jolt of pain. Harry belatedly thought that sitting in the one place with his knee bent beneath him for over an hour probably hadn't been the smartest nor fastest way of aiding the healing process.

"I had thought you would be fast asleep Harry"

It was testament to his state of mind when Harry couldn't tell whether that question contained admonishment or simple surprise. Having never been so obviously admonished by the man Harry wasn't sure how to act or what their current relationship status was. Having the Headmaster angry with him was a new and altogether unsettling experience. Realising some time had passed since Dumbledore had spoken; Harry flushed and answered the unasked question.

"I umm couldn't sleep. I mean I didn't know I was supposed to be trying sir, to sleep I mean."

Had his knee not already been sore he would have kicked himself for such a rambling response. Dumbledore smiled briefly, just a quick quirk of his lips as though amused, before making his way to his usual chair.

"Sleep? Not necessarily. _Resting_? Most definitely. That knee will not thank you in the morning my boy for not following my advice."

Harry, still standing before the fire and playing nervously with the sleeves of his pyjamas which he'd pulled over his hands, limped towards the sofa, aware all the time of his headmaster's eyes (and probably wand) following him. Collapsing with a relieved puff of breath, he swung his legs up and leaned into the corner, his view changing from the fire to Dumbledore, stretched out in his armchair with his hands crossed serenely over his chest, his silver rings glinting in the lamp light. He couldn't help but notice that the man looked tired, exhausted in fact and wondered if it was only a result of the magic he had employed that afternoon or something else.

"Are Ron and Hermione...?" he asked hesitantly, his voice coming out a little quieter than he had planned.

"Settled in their temporary beds and well on their way to a deep and dreamless sleep? Yes."

Harry looked down at his hands, absently picking at the corner of one cuticle as the room fell quiet once more. He didn't want the tension between the headmaster and himself to continue any longer than it had but a part of him, a small rebellious part, felt that he had been justified leaving the castle, who _wouldn't_ have in the circumstances!, and so why should he feel bad? Dumbledore would have done the same!

"Ah Harry. I fear that in this instance we may have to agree to disagree my boy. "

Harry looked up quickly, his breath catching in his chest. _How did he..? _

"Because I am old and well acquainted with the minds of teenagers my boy."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in the little light cast by the lamp beside him as they caught Harrys across the top of his half moon spectacles. Harry broke the eye contact with a frown, looking down again at his hands which were twisting the ends of the blanket in a continuous motion without any conscious thought. He felt awkward, frustrated and embarrassed, a combination he seemed to be becoming more and more familiar with since his arrival back at Hogwarts. The frown marring his forehead deepened as he considered that in other years and when circumstances had been much more dangerous his teachers, Dumbledore especially, had never taken him to task for going with his gut and doing what he thought was right, even when he had expected it. Except Snape of course but _he_ didn't count seeing as he practically whooped for joy at having a _legitimate_ excuse to punish him. Git. What was so different about this time? In fact the more he thought on it the angrier he became. In the five years he had attended Hogwarts never once had the professor chastised him for his actions. _Not once_.

"I've been thinking about our..._discussion _earlier Harry....."

Despite his thought, Harry ducked his head again, heat climbing from his collar to no doubt stain his cheeks. He pulled the blanket a little tighter around him.

"....and it occurs to me that from _your _perspective it would no doubt seem as though I and indeed your other professors were.....not supportive certainly but.....tolerant? Of your...extracurricular activities."

Harry looked up in surprise. Dumbledore was gazing at him in thought, but as their eyes met he slowly leaned forward, his expression as serious as Harry had ever seen. This time, he could not look away even if he had wanted to.

"I want to make it clear Harry that you are labouring under a misconception. I think perhaps we have allowed you to mistake _overwhelming relief_ for your wellbeing as praise for your actions. Each time you have stepped into danger without a thought to your own safety, albeit for a worthy cause, has stretched the nerves of everyone who cares for you to the point where functioning properly is near impossible. You seek danger just as much as it seeks you Harry, with little regard for your own life and limb. And though such pursuits can be considered noble when they are done selflessly and for a higher purpose, and you are probably the most selfless person I know my boy, it is not a pursuit any child should endeavour to commit to. Trouble has an uncanny ability to find you Harry, I _am_ aware of that, but you have been left too long with the impression that it is acceptable for you to wade into battle alone, not because of arrogance as some may suggest, or because of some predestined path that you must walk unaccompanied, but because you truly believe you _are_ alone."

Harry's eyes stung and he blinked it away, jutting his chin slightly as he continued to stare at the wizard in front of him. He swallowed painfully and his voice wasn't too contorted when he spoke.

"I don't think I'm _alone_.."

"No? Truly Harry?"

Anger was quick to gather in Harry's chest as he continued his attempt to stare his headmaster down. _What was the point in this?!_

"What did you expect me to do then? Cower behind the stone wall and hope everything went away?" He snapped.

"But that is exactly my point. Would it not cross your mind Harry to run to _me_ for help?" Dumbledore's tone remained gentle despite Harry's cheek.

Harry eventually looked away, into the fire that had offered comfort before. He didn't want to hurt Dumbledore, despite the resentment still lingering in his gut.

"It is _no longer acceptable Harry. _Do you understand? You are not alone in this. In any of it my boy."

Harry clenched his jaw very tightly and continued to stare at the low burning flames, afraid of what would happen if he unclenched his jaw or any other bunched up muscles in his body. He could almost _feel_ Dumbledores desire to have him meet the old man's eyes.

"Had you been my own Harry, had I took you when your parents fell...."

Harry could hear the air escaping his body noisily through his nostrils as he listened, his throat tight and achy. He was glad with every fibre of his body when the professor paused, leaving the sentence unfinished. It was quiet long enough that Harry managed to relax slightly into the cushions behind him and bring his eyes from the hypnotic flames to glance through his fringe to the wizard sitting to the right. Dumbledore smiled slightly when he caught Harry's eye and sighed, a great gust of breath that seemed to deflate the man on the way out.

"My dear boy, I regret that your summer holidays have not improved as I had wished them to on your arrival."

Harry reckoned Dumbledore sounded much sadder about that fact than Harry actually felt. His eyes felt gritty and he resisted raising his hands to give them a good rub. He had to crane his neck when the headmaster fluidly rose, straightening his thin frame by arching his back slightly. He stepped a little closer to the couch and lowered his head to appraise Harry through his glasses.

"Unfortunately I cannot promise that nothing else will happen during your stay here Harry. In the future though I will expect you to alert me if you are in danger or distress. I _mean_ it Harry. You are not to rush headlong into situations that you know to be dangerous as you have so frequently done before. You are a clever boy with a good head on your shoulders so you must know that in any battle or dangerous situation _I_ am your best defence yes? I do not say that to bruise your ego my boy, you are indeed a fine young wizard and you have proven time and again a capable one too, but you remain a _minor_ and _unqualified_. I want you to give me your _word_ that you will seek me out, or, if I am not immediately available, another adult when you are in danger or distressed."

Harry didn't answer. So he was to call on Dumbledore the next time he suspected a teacher to be dark? Give him a shout the next time Voldemort whisked him away to places unknown? Wake him in the middle of the bloody night when he dreamed that someone he loved was being tortured to death? So he could what? Go the same way as everyone else he lo....cared about? NO.....

"Harry, your word please"

Dumbledore sounded less patient that time and Harry wondered for a moment just what might happen if he refused. A spike of resentment firmed his jaw. _Why is he pushing for this now_, he thought angrily, _when he knows fine well that I don't have a choice! The prophecy said..._

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes flickered across the room, landing everywhere but on the imposing wizard before him. The silence was unbearable and the expectancy radiating from his headmaster was almost tangible but still he remained silent, his mind casting back to the proud smile he had received from Dumbledore when he had bestowed an award for special services to the school following his slaying of the Basilisk. Had it been pride behind that smile? Or had Harry been so desperate for it to be that he had convinced himself that it was. That it had been more than a show for the sake of the vile observers who had something to lose from his achievement.

A rustling of heavy fabric accompanied Dumbledore as he shifted and Harry stiffened, his heart hammering beneath his chest, aware that he was possibly making the situation worse by not giving in to the headmaster's request. His fear and desperation were morphing into a ball which felt lodged in his gut.

"_Harry_...!"

"_I can't_! I _can't_ promise something I can't do! Don't you see? This is how is _has_ to be! In the end it will only be me and Voldemort and I _won't_ be able to call on you to help!! You _can't _protect me, no-one can!!"

Harry had lurched to his feet mid rant, knee forgotten, and was leaning towards Dumbledore, his whole body as tense as a bow. Rage surged, a bitter twisting anger that had been repressed long enough.

"You're going on about me not doing _this_ and _that_ but you _know_ what I have to do, you've known for years! Stop trying to act as though I'm some normal kid with a nose for trouble! Normal kids don't have their teachers attack them or get chased through the forbidden forest by giant spiders or get stalked by bloody dementors or get threatened by _fucking vampires_!!!!!..."

Harry paused to draw breath, an action made more difficult by the tightness across his chest and the pins and needles in his hands.

"...And how many times have we spoken after one of these attacks and not once have you lectured me on coming to you for help! You gave me a bloody _award_ for killing that honking great snake down in the chamber for crying out loud! You gave Gryffindor points for bravery and courage and a whole list of bloody things after I _killed _Quirrell! What was that? Practice? Well fine, I understand ok? I know how important I am to the war. But now that my uncle slapped me around a bit, something he's been doing for _years_ by the way, I'm suddenly _fragile_? Now that I know I've to kill that evil snake faced bastard you want to play guardian??...you want to _protect_ me??"

Harry knew he should stop. His headmaster stood just a foot away and his face was as serious as Harry had ever seen it, his eyes a dull, stormy blue behind the glasses he was looking through. But rather than put him off, the level look somehow spurred him on, challenged and dared him to continue. He felt as though a poisonous boil had been lanced and though the pain had worsened, he knew somewhere deep down that it wouldn't last, that afterwards he would feel better for it. His magic coiled tighter inside him, he could feel it as he had on numerous occasions over the past few days, swelling and spinning.

"...well you can't! Ok? I _know_ you can't because loads of people have tried before and do you know what happened to them? They ended up _dead_!!! Just like my parents and Cedric and _Sirius_ and Buckbeak! And you can take every point from Gryffindor for the next 10 years, or my broom or anything you want because I don't _fucking care_! Alright? I'm not promising _anything_! Not a _single_ thing you hear me? You can't make m......."

Panting for breath, his body twisted into battle stance, Harry paused and struggled to reign in the magic that fizzled across his chest and down his arms, the static of it actually painful in its intensity. Groaning with the effort, he ducked his head and wrapped his painful limbs around himself, curling over them slightly as though to drive the energy back within him. A pained whimper escaped his throat as a particularly strong surge snapped at his nerve endings, setting them ablaze. The strong hand that landed on his upper arm and drew him shuffling forward didn't even register at first. It was the deep voice at his ear that brought his attention back to the room in general.

"Give me your hand Harry. I can help. Give me your hand for just a moment..."

Pulling his hand from under his opposite arm proved to be more of a challenge than Harry had expected frightened as he was of hurting his headmaster. The magic pooling in his system systematically surged, causing what felt like spikes of crackling energy down his arms and into his hand, which had begun to shake with the effort of not releasing it. As soon as his hand was free of his clothes Harry felt the warm hand of his professor grasp it, as though to shake it in greeting, and then the most amazing feeling of....well he couldn't really describe it. It was similar to the feeling he got when his wand shot sparks into the air upon his long awaited touch or when he produced a particularly powerful spell. The magic that had been swirling seemed to leech from his system through the connection of their joined hands and Harry staggered slightly when his professor's hand eventually slipped from his own. He groaned as dizziness swept over him but took comfort in the large hands that encompassed his shoulders, and too in the feeling of his magic settling within him until he could no longer consciously feel it.

"Look at me"

It wasn't a request. Harry was still too wrapped in what had happened to fully realise all he had said and so rather than twist away from the hands holding him in an effort to escape or mumble an apology he looked up unflinchingly, his eyes dazed as they locked onto the still serious ones of his headmaster as the wizard bent forward to bring himself at eye level with him.

"Your accidental magic we will discuss in a moment. There are a few things I want to say first and I _will_ have your full attention is that understood?"

The dizziness and dazedness left Harry just as quickly as it had come and he felt his stomach twist in a whole new way as he mutely nodded his head, his wide eyes taking in the stern visage before him. _Oh God.....Oh Merlin....._

"I have _never_, nor will I _ever _applaud any action you take which puts your life at risk. _Never_. If you only knew the worry, and yes, at times the anger I have felt on the occasions when you have run headlong into clearly dangerous situations with no thought to your own wellbeing...."

Harry's eyes went impossibly wider and his teeth clacked together uncomfortably when the hands holding him firmly shook him twice, as though to drive the next point home.

"Do_ not_ mistake my leniency for approval! Perhaps Severus is right, in that I afford you too much freedom and too little discipline and you are now suffering the results of my own failings. If that is indeed the case then I have been a fool but it would be completely reprehensible for me not to change that now when I have the chance. Yes, you are right in that I've known of the prophecy since before you were born but you are wrong to assume that I have treated you differently solely because of it. I have treated you differently because I _care _about you a great deal. Yes, you have faced dangers and challenges as a result of your destiny but you are wrong to assume that I have not done everything in my power to try to prevent them. To my own shame not always successfully Harry, I realise that, but I have never claimed to be without faults or flaws...."

Harry cringed still further as he felt Dumbledores magic swirl around him, feeling every bit the child the wizard professed him to be as the wizard's eyes blazed a bright, furious blue.

"...and had I _known_ your relatives were treating you so abominably, that you were suffering abuse at the hands of your uncle, and your aunt and cousin for that matter I would have ensured a swift and permanent end to it Harry. I knew life there was hard on you but as long as you were _alive_ I deemed it a necessary evil. Which is why, my dear boy, I foolishly awarded points, and awards and permission for you to play quiddich at such a young age. I felt it was the least I could do..."

Harry felt his throat thicken and swallowed uncomfortably as he watched a sparkling sheen mist across the brilliant blue of the headmasters' expressive eyes. The man had lost the rigidity and urgency he possessed upon starting and slowly the hands that had held him securely had eased to allow the absent sweep of a wrinkled thumb across his collarbone in a rhythmic and comforting motion. In a way that simple gesture proved harder to cope with than the wizards temper. The powerful magic that had merged with the usually comforting aura had faded too, leaving Harry with the realisation that he really did have a ways to go yet. He watched confused as the headmaster frowned, his bushy white eyebrows forming a dent above his nose as he shook his head, his whole demeanour shifting.

"I am not being entirely honest with you. You would indeed be justified in harbouring resentment towards me Harry. For all my declarations of my good and well meant intentions, as genuine as they may be, there _have_ been occasions where I have allowed you to face what has later transpired to be mortal danger, alone and practically defenceless. In trying to prepare you for what I knew lay ahead I very nearly lost you, and on more than one occasion. I have tried throughout your short life to control too many things, fate being the most foolish. But fate is her own mistress Harry, as was proven when I found you, scared, bruised and alone; in the quiddich stands of all places!, despite all my efforts to keep you sheltered in what I thought then to be a safe place."

Dumbledore looked to the left, into the flames that licked the brickwork surrounding them and Harry was disturbed not only by the break in eye contact and shift in mood but in the reflection the fire threw upon the glasses balanced on the wizards crooked nose, making the glass shimmer threateningly in shades of orange and red.

"I have struggled my boy. Not a day has passed since you were but a baby in my arms that I have not wrestled with the dual responsibility of keeping you safe from those who wished you harm and preparing you for a confrontation with an adversary who could strike at any time. I admit I have wavered between both over the years, feeling one more important than the other at various times and during different troubles. But it has become clear Harry, in just this past week, that by becoming lost in my own struggles in deciding your fate, I have hurt you far more than any enemy has been able, formidable though they are."

The instinct to console the headmaster, to defend him from himself leapt to the fore but was quickly shunted back, the, admittedly, mild resentment still enough to hold him distant. The silence between them grew to last almost a minute and just as Harry was about to attempt to shrug the hands from his shoulders, thinking the headmaster was lost in his own thoughts, they shifted and firmed again and Harry watched confusingly as Dumbledore seemed to inflate once more, his eyes focussing and drilling into his own.

"You will stop Tom Riddle Harry...."

Harry blanched, the blood draining from his face at the starkness of that statement.

"...for you are the only one who can. It says so in the prophecy after all. It does not say, however, _when_ nor _how _it will transpire but instead leaves the possibilities open to our imagination. Or put another way, Harry, it leaves it for us to decide...."

Harry shuffled his feet, his brow wrinkled in concentration as he tried to decipher what his professor was saying. The whole conversation now seemed important, life-changing almost and Harry could feel the seriousness of it seep into his consciousness, almost as though he had just come to the realisation of what their previous argument had become.

"...as much as you hate to hear it my boy, you_ are_ a child, a minor and unqualified. You protest that you are not normal because of your circumstances and while I agree they are unique, you my boy, are not, at least in most ways. You have a teenager's temperament and concentration; you are prone to bouts of angst that have nothing to do with Voldemort or basilisks or prophecy; you are insecure and self conscious; you rail against authority but desperately, secretly, desire someone to take responsibility for you, you have a flashpoint temper and like all teens often speak without thought.."

Harry felt his face prickle with heat at the accuracy of the allegations and ducked his head, his eyes sweeping the hem of the headmaster's robes as he silently willed the man to stop talking. A hand left his shoulder and shucked him under the chin and he reluctantly lifted his head, his neck muscles tight and stiff. Thankfully, Dumbledore had stopped listing his faults but the man was back to looking scary and Harry wasn't sure he preferred the latter.

"You are a _child_ Harry and I am your guardian, responsible for your happiness and well-being. I have made errors, grievous mistakes that I truly regret in my responsibilities to you. A muggle man named James Joyce once said that a man's mistakes are his portals to discovery and I feel that particularly accurate in this case my boy. For too long I have stayed apart from you personally so as to make the hard decisions easier for myself. I have watched over you from afar and discouraged too strong an attachment to me for the same reasons. I was wrong to do so and I intend to rectify my mistakes. Starting now.

You are not ready to complete the prophecy Harry. Not yet. Voldemorts attempts to capture or kill you will no doubt continue in the future and we will face them together, as should have been the way from the start. But they will no longer dominate your existence Harry. For now you are to concentrate on growing up and all that entails, that being your studies, at school and with me, your friends, girlfriends, parties, pranks and the rest. For the time being you must trust that I will do everything in my power to protect you and have the patience to allow me to do what I trust is best. And I know you fear for me Harry and I understand why. You have lost so many people already and naturally still grieve for your godfather. Modesty aside for the moment; I _am_ a formidable wizard Harry. Tom fears me for a reason. Up until now he has known that I impose measures to ensure your safety and care for you to a certain degree. But now...."

Dumbledore took a breath, his countenance flickering from firm confidence to nervous uncertainty.

"Having made my guardianship of you legal at the ministry, a fact which Tom is aware of judging by this latest stunt, I have effectively placed myself in front of you. It may not completely stop the rash attempts on your life of previous years but it will certainly give him pause..."

Harry ran his tongue around his parched mouth as he stared at the headmaster is confusion, all efforts to soak in the seriousness of the conversation instantly forgotten. Legal? _What??_

"What do you mean? Legal?"

Harry tried to take a step back but the hands holding him firmed, even as he watched his professors face slacken. The headmaster spoke with a new urgency.

"You must understand Harry that the wards surrounding your aunt's home will collapse, any day now, and will take with it the blood protection I invoked following your mothers sacrifice. Whilst you remained a member of their household the ministry could not touch you, not legally anyway and as an independent institution they have no choice but to leave your supervision and welfare in my hands, as headmaster, while school is in session. However, they will be notified by the aurors department the moment the wards fail and Cornelius, I am sure, would no doubt have pounced on the opportunity to lodge an appeal to the Wizengamot for full legal ministry guardianship. I could not let that happen Harry."

Harry wobbled slightly as he tried to process everything he was being told. His eyes focussed blearily on a shining thread on Dumbledores shoulder. So Dumbledore was his guardian? His legal guardian? And he didn't tell him?!

Wrenching his shoulders from the man's grasp as he twisted away, Harry stumbled back a few steps and watched as Dumbledore's face fell into tired resignation, almost as though he had expected this. If anything it made Harry angrier.

"Why didn't you tell me?! Ask me?? When did you do this??!"

Dumbledore withdrew his wand from his robes and flicked it once without speaking. Harry heard a door down the hall open and close and then startled slightly when a white roll of parchment shot across his shoulder from behind and into Dumbledore's waiting hand.

"The day I was at the ministry Harry. The meetings I had were to finalise the guardianship and though there were attempts to thwart my success, it was eventually made official. I have friends in the ministry, much to the ministers displeasure, so the complicated process was expedited somewhat. As for my secrecy, i thought it wise to wait until you were in a better frame of mind before I informed you. This conversation is long overdue my boy and that is my fault."

Harry blinked at the headmaster, his brain refusing to wrap around the entire conversation. He took the offered roll of parchment without thought but dropped it on the sofa cushion, uncaring about the paperwork. Thoughts flitted across his mind, ranging from anger at being left in the dark; dread that the headmaster had performed a duty from necessity rather than desire and a combination of excitement and dread at the thought of having an adult to call his own again. Sighing, he finally gave in to the impulse to reach under his glasses and balling his hands into fists screwed them into his eyes until lights danced behind his closed lids. When the light was almost blinding he let his hands drop to his sides and blinked to clear the haziness from his vision, his eyelids feeling even heavier. Fatigue rolled through him in waves and he noticed his knee throbbed in time with his sluggish heartbeat. This was all too much to process, he thought tiredly. Far too much. The whole day had been too much.

"As keen as I am to finish this conversation I think perhaps it could wait till the morning. You are clearly exhausted"

Harry whipped his head around at the sound of the raspy voice and opened his mouth to object but his protest died in his throat as he swayed, his body betraying him. The whole situation had taken on a dreamlike haze. Shaking his head mildly at everything in general he turned towards the door when he noticed Dumbledore shift, keen to put some distance between them. His bedroom door was opened as he traversed the hall and he slipped into the darkened room, conscious of the presence shadowing him. Slipping in between the down turned sheets so his back was to the door he was about to reach back and pull the blankets over his shoulder when he felt them lifted, the cool air of the room rushing in to the temporary gap, and tucked around him. The simple act, like those before it, brought a wave of emotion roaring up from the pit of his stomach to his chest where it settled hot and twitching. The mattress tilted slightly as Dumbledore perched on the edge.

"I know you are dissatisfied my boy. I also imagine you are quite angry with me. You have a right to be both of course but I promise I will try to answer whatever questions you have in the morning, when you are clear headed and not about to keel over. Sleep now Harry, and remember I am across the hall if you need anything. Goodnight my boy."

Harry felt the loss when the mattress lifted slightly and the professor's magical aura, which Harry had become accustomed to, drew slowly away. He heard the creak of the door as it was pulled closed but left ajar, as it had been every night since his unexpected arrival. Pulling the blankets tighter around him Harry's mind replayed the night in flickering Technicolor but his last thought was to wonder what had happened to Buckbeaks body, before he fell into a restless sleep.

oooOoOOoOooo

Unsurprisingly, Harry's sleep was disturbed during the course of the night by a nightmare and he woke with a hoarse shout that was swallowed by the inky black and otherwise silent room. Despite his prickling scalp and sticky skin, Harry pulled the blankets up and huddled, pressing the bottom half of his face into them as he willed the panic to recede. Despite his west practised efforts, he remained jumpy enough to startle badly when the door creaked loudly on its hinges, a long anguished whine that could have come from any horror film Harry's mind was now replaying. Fighting the very childish urge to bury his face completely in the soft comforter he instead breathed a woosh of air and released his handfuls of blanket when a soft yellow light appeared and the Headmasters profile came into view. Dumbledore looked as though he had just fallen out of bed and was squinting bleary eyed at harry through the little light cast by his wand as he approached the bed. Harry scooted over slightly without thought and immediately felt better when the Professor settled on the space made for him, his powerful aura seeking him in a tingly wave.

"M'sorry..." he whispered, feeling frustrated by his inability to keep his night terrors to himself, as he had done successfully at the Dursleys. He felt rather than heard Dumbledore sigh and complied when a gentle hand pushed him back towards the pillow.

"If any apologies are to be made they should be mine Harry. I had intended to give you dreamless sleep before you retired."

Dumbledore's voice was a whisper atop a steady rumble which in itself was a soothing comfort. Half turned towards Harry; he watched guiltily as the dishevelled wizard raised a hand and pressed thumb and finger into his closed eyes for a moment and only removed them to rest his still glowing wand on the bedside table, where it continued to cast a warm yellow light in a balloon around them.

"S'ok. It wasn't a vision. Jus' a regular dream."

Harry reached up and scratched his itchy scalp, his hair slightly damp to the touch at the edges. Echoes of the dream played across his mind, brief snapshots of, strangely, his uncle Vernon, ruddy faced and perspiring, his hands holding his enormous quivering belly as he laughed and laughed beside the rotting body of Buckbeak; Harry, lost in the castle, his hoarse cries for his godfather echoing back to him from the darkness as he ran from damp corridor to corridor, each looking the replica of the one before; Hiding behind a statue on the second floor, terrified and sick, watching the retreating form of a procession of Hogwarts staff.

"A daresay the dream was very far from regular my boy. Do you want to tell me?"

Wriggling his arm back under the blankets pulled tight across him Harry shook his head in the negative. He could imagine himself trying to explain his disjointed and disturbing nightmare and the concerned crinkling of Dumbledore's brow which would inevitably follow. The thought of his professor drawing deep and meaningful conclusions and insights from his subconscious imagery was enough to have him shake his head again, definitively. The light in the room shifted dramatically as Dumbledore lifted his glowing wand and flicked it in the direction of the door, his eyes continuing to assess Harry. With the ear not muffled by his pillow Harry could hear various clicks and bangs from the corridor outside and caught a glimpse of something glinting in the wand light before it slapped into the Headmaster's outstretched palm.

"Sit up my boy"

Harry obeyed, struggling slightly with the covers pulled taught by the mattress at one side and his professor on the other. Once sitting though he blinked owlishly in the semi darkness, feeling faintly numb. He watched the older man carefully tilt the bottle and pour a small amount of, what looked like thick tar in the darkness, into the hollow cork. He took the cork when offered it and looked into its murky depths. He really hated potions. He was awake enough to remember that.

"Dreamless Sleep Harry. Just a drop of two to see you through till morning."

Harry nodded and, making a slight face, threw the concoction to the back of his throat and gulped, his expression twisting in revulsion as a shiver wracked his spine, making his whole body shake.

"You'd think that whoever invented that stuff would have considered....uh....camomile or......ahhh... whattsit...flava..."

A huge yawn cut of his dissolving rant, bringing tears to his eyes which triggered an extended bout of eye rubbing. Two surprisingly strong hands pushed him backwards by his shoulders before he was finished and he felt the previously suffocating blanket drawn gently up to his chin.

"I can man...manage m'self..."

He swatted weakly at a hand that pushed his fringe away from his eyes and felt his hand instead captured and held loosely on his chest, the motion of a thumb passing repeatedly across the back of his hand forestalling any attempts at escape. That coupled with the vibration of the raspy rumbling voice to his right send him into the land of nod.

"I do not know why your stubbornness continues to exasperate me Harry; your father was exactly the same."

ooOooOOooOoo

Next time: What's happening with Harry's magic (this isn't going to become a 'super-powered' Harry fic just to be clear) what effect will the wards failure have on Harry and........guess who's back.


	12. Chapter 12

**Reparo**

Rated: PG13 (Angst, maybe a swear word or two)

Spoilers: Some events from OOTP and before. Nothing beyond that as it's completely AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything remotely associated with the Harry Potter Universe. I'm just playing around with a few characters. Please don't sue me! I'm totally skint.

**Authors Note**: Hello m'luvlies  I hope you enjoy this epic chapter, more than 13,000 words!!! Could hardly believe it myself. Anyway, more angst a plenty and some plot development ahead so enjoy. And I've included responses to last chapter's reviews at the end....no skipping ahead! As always, I would love to hear from you. As an added incentive I'm offering a prize. It's a fairly simple game. I've picked 3 numbers, below 50, and written them down on a piece of paper. If your review corresponds with one of these numbers you will be entered into the prize draw. So what's at stake I hear you ask? The drawn winner gets to dictate a future scene between Harry and Dumbledore, a scenario they would like to see. The draw will take place on Halloween night October 31st. Good luck!

Previously:

"I can man...manage m'self..."

He swatted weakly at a hand that pushed his fringe away from his eyes and felt his hand instead captured and held loosely on his chest, the motion of a thumb passing repeatedly across the back of his hand forestalling any attempts at escape. That coupled with the vibration of the raspy rumbling voice to his right send him into the land of nod.

"I do not know why your stubbornness continues to exasperate me Harry; your father was exactly the same."

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The dips and shallows of the quaffle caught the air as it soared high, the sunlight catching the luminance of the well worn leather as it arced and spun across the hall, its trajectory hard to pinpoint from its high altitude. Harry drew back his arm distractedly and straightened from his energetic throw as he watched, keenly following the misshapen balls progress. He stood facing the centre aisle ten feet from the doors of the great hall and as the launched sphere soared he tried desperately to judge the speed and remaining distance to that of his red haired friend's position, trying to gauge whether or not he had, _this time_, managed to make it.

Ron watched just as avidly, his neck arched backwards and hands held out at each side as though he were balancing. He shuffled from side to side, backwards and forwards as he watched, he too trying to decide where the brown projectile might land.

Both boys muttered quietly, attention absolute, their urges meant for the ball and not each other. _Left a bit, c'mon! Go on, right!! right!!Go on!_

Harry audibly groaned as Ron suddenly leapt forward, his oversized feet carrying him at least four large strides, arms outstretched in a failed effort to catch the quaffle which had quickly lost its promising momentum and dropped like a rock some fifteen feet from where he stood at the base of the teacher's platform. Harry began walking towards the only remaining table in the hall to where Hermione sat, face and expression hidden by a curtain of brown curls. Ron reached the bench at the same time, the quaffle animated by his fast moving hands. Harry eyed the thing hatefully, his shoulder throbbing in empathy - sore as it was from his repeated failed attempts. Ron's slightly smug expression didn't help any.

"Better stick to seeker mate, I doubt you could hit the side of my_ house_ throwing like that!"

Harry glared, his lips coming up in an imitation of his smug friends smile as one hand came out lightening fast to punch his arm. Ron's indignant 'hey!' and stifled groan of discomfort was a balm to Harry's bruised ego and he smiled in satisfaction as he straddled the bench, his attention sweeping from Ron furiously rubbing his deadened nerves to Hermione furiously reading his guardianship papers. She'd been at it since finding the sheaf of papers this morning in the sitting room and besides the inevitable review of the previous nights revealing discussion, hadn't come up for air.

"Is it even in English? I mean I know I just glanced at it but I swear the bit I did see was in gobbledegook. Or maybe Norwegian."

Hermione looked up from where she had been reading to mock glare at Harry.

"Are you not even a_ little_ curious as to what's written here Harry? For all you know the Headmaster could have written in a clause forbidding you from Quiddich until you complete your _apprenticeship_."

Ron's attention immediately shifted from examining the red blotch on his upper arm to Hermione, his facial expression painted in lines of horror.

"He can't do that! That's bloody child cruelty that is!"

Harry rolled his eyes, first at Ron for his overdramatic exclamations and then at Hermione. At least _this _was a statement he could refute with confidence.

"He wouldn't do that Hermione."

Hermione flicked stray hairs away from her face in an agitated swipe, one hand remaining on the page in front of her, keeping her place.

"Well of course he wouldn't do _that_ but that's not the point I was trying to make. Guardianship is a huge deal Harry and a completely different bucket of toads to what it is in the muggle world and not just because of the magic involved. I've been reading...."

"Well _there's_ a huge surprise." Ron stage whispered, his lips twitching with mirth.

"Shut up Ron" Harry whispered, his attention never leaving his bushy haired friend who was now shooting daggers at the boy beside him.

"..._as I was_ _saying_, I've been reading the small print and appendixes included with the guardianship papers and what's immediately apparent is that wizards take this sort of thing a hell of a lot more seriously than they do in, let's say, Little Whinging. Professor Dumbledore has entered into a binding magical contract which, if I remember history of magic correctly, is not something wizards enter into lightly."

Harry blanched slightly, his eyes leaving Hermione's large ones to stare at the parchment below her hand. He would have been lying if he said he had resolved everything from the night before in his mind. The truth was he had tried very hard not to think on any of it at all, a process made easier by his not having to face Dumbledore that morning. Logically he knew the wizard had serious responsibilities elsewhere and could not shirk them in favour of soothing his, Harrys hurt feelings but it didn't stop the irrational hurt he felt at having been left hanging again.

"Yeah well if he'd bothered to tell me all this _days _ago when he went ahead and done it without a bye or leave then I _would_ know all this wouldn't I?" he muttered, mad that his tone came out less indignant and more petulant.

It was Ron this time who called him on it. Harry reckoned they had been taking turns since this morning.

"_Harry_, mate, this isn't a bad thing. Right? I mean this is Dumbledore we're talking about. _Dumbledore_. And Hermione's right, it's a pretty big deal in our world, his taking you as his...eh..."

"_Ward _is the proper term Ronald"

"...Thanks Hermione..._Ward_? Oh right well yeah...his ward or whatever. Anyway, I knew a boy at primary school who had a guardian and their relationship was exactly the same as the one I had with my parents. I mean he even called him _dad_ for pity's sake! Not that I mean you should start calling him _that_ or anything...ehhhhhhh..."

Harry almost smiled at Ron, whose turns always seemed to end in a drawn out vowel and a red face.

"Forget for a minute the Professors less than stellar timing and concentrate on what it _means_ Harry. Listen to this..."

Hermione flipped carefully but quickly back through the pages she had already devoured and trailed a finger down the rows and paragraphs of some of the neatest calligraphy Harry had ever seen.

"... I, _**Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore**_ on this day do swear, in view of witnesses and in accordance with the decree of Wizarding family services, section 308(a), paragraph 2, sub paragraph 211; **that I shall carry out the duties of guardian to the best of my ability;** _**that I shall, for as long as I am able, provide for my ward all he might require to be a happy and healthy child, adolescent and adult; that I shall provide suitable shelter where he might be safe to grow and learn; that I will encourage and contribute to an scholarly and moral education; that I shall enforce discipline in a fair and reasonable manner; that I shall take all measures necessary to protect the life and well being of the child placed in my care and that I shall assist in the education and control of his magical development**_...

Harry, this isn't simply a case of him signing his name against a standard list of do's and don'ts – of which there are _pages _by the way – the headmaster has listed the oaths himself. They are specific to _you_. _And_ magically binding. Do you have any idea how significant this is?"

Harry could feel his cheeks warm as Hermione stared at him expectantly. Not only did he now feel a bit of an arse for not taking it seriously enough to read the papers – he was embarrassed at how personal the professors promises had been, how young they made him sound and obviously there were more that Hermione hadn't read out – there _had_ to be considering the thickness of the slab of papers before them.

"I don't know much about magical binding's Mione....like the majority of History of Magic I was probably catching up with some sleep at the time."

Ron snorted a laugh and rocked against Harry in some kind of camaraderie which did nothing to ease the disapproving frown marring Hermione's forehead.

"Like all magic, bindings range in power and use. An example of a powerful binding could be the Hogwarts house elves; as you know they are magically bound to provide for and protect its students and teachers, _but_, the binding is so strong and so ingrained that over the centuries it has grown to be a compulsion, such is the strength of the magical bind. But there are of course less extreme uses, such as traditional wedding vows, employment rituals, apprenticeships and so forth..."

"You're sounding more like McGonagall every day Herm, it's downright scary!"

"Oh do be quiet Ronald!"

"WHERE does guardianship fit in then?" Harry asked loudly, hoping to distract both of them from the impending shouting match. Hermione shot Ron a truly filthy look before giving in to her need to answer the question. Harry supposed that people had compulsions just as much as elves.

"Guardianship is way up there Harry on the list of controlled bindings. As well as official adoption, elf inductions, professorships, unspeakables, aurors, goblin bankers, dementors...."

"_All right_ we get the idea Mione, but what does it _mean_? I'm pretty sure Dumbledore won't be beating himself over the head with a candlestick or burning his fingers with an iron if he forgets to go over Harry's homework."

Harry swivelled his head to glare at his best friend - which combined with Hermione's had Ron shrinking back and his eyes darting between both of them. Harry spoke through his teeth in an effort to stop his agitated yell from letting loose.

"First of all - _enough with the bloody comments_! You're driving me barmy to say nothing of the danger you're in from Hermione. Secondly.... he won't be checking my homework ok? He's the _Headmaster_, not my professor, it would be.....weird. And possibly cheating."

Harry saw the strange glance he received from Hermione at his comments but ignored it, favouring an extended glare to Ron who was by now holding his hands up in a placating manner, clearly realising that this was not a tense situation that could be resolved by humour. Or sarcasm. Or him at all. Best just to shut up really.

"It means that Professor Dumbledore didn't do this on a whim Harry. It's obvious from the paperwork that a lot of thought and planning went into this guardianship...a hell of a lot more than is possible to do in just a few days, even for a wizard such as him. "

Harry felt gooseflesh rise on his arms and neck as he tried to connect the points Hermione was making. Hermione, as always, saved him the effort.

"A magical guardianship is a lifelong commitment Harry, much like a muggle adoption. If I had to wager a guess, and based on my reading of these papers, I'd surmise that Professor Dumbledore had this guardianship prepared a long time ago, hence why he got it finalised so quickly."

Swallowing thickly, Harry gazed down at the shining wood, his brow forming a deep v across his forehead as thoughts of an imagined happy childhood played across his mind. It was Ron who thankfully interrupted his disturbing and deeply depressing mental slide show, his voice hesitant still.

"But the important point is he's done it now right? I mean no more Dursleys, _ever_? That's got to be worth some kind of celebration, yeah? And as pissed off as you are with the Headmaster right now, you've got to admit that that having _him_ as a guardian _is_ pretty cool."

Harry glanced to the side; his thoughts still in turmoil but couldn't help but return his best friends infectious smirk. He felt his shoulders drop a little as he exhaled a long breath. Hermione's small hand slid across the back of his and squeezed. When he looked across at her he noticed her other hand had long abandoned its job as place-holder and was resting to the side, fingers stretched towards him. When he met her worried gaze he smiled a little more in reassurance bringing his other hand to cover the one grasping his own. His stomach swooped a little as her expression shifted. It was the one she had when she was about to say something of great import, like the answer to a life-saving riddle or just before she launched into an eerily adult ticking-off.

"It took longer than it should have Harry. For someone to do something about those awful people I mean. I'm not surprised you're angry, really I'm not and If I'm telling the truth I'd confess I would probably feel the same way. But this is one of those times where Ron and I can't help you, as much as I hate to admit it. Professor Dumbledore _can _though Harry. Please, just give him a chance."

Her eyes told Harry that she had edited her speech significantly for his benefit, and probably too for poor naive Ron's.

And really, he knew the unspoken words already. He knew he had been damaged by the Dursleys in more significant ways than just some broken ribs and the occasional black eye though if asked he wouldn't necessarily be able to explain how. Dumbledore would though. Harry knew that and so knew too that what Hermione said held some truth. The Headmaster had explained the night before in a brutally honest fashion his reasons for leaving him so long at the Dursleys and in many ways Harry could understand them. But as much as he cared for his professor he knew that a small part of him, a part that was forged in the back of the cupboard under the stairs, would always resent the old man for it regardless of the circumstances and however reasonable or logical his excuses. Harry knew that it was a only a small part of him though, and the rest of him, the part that made him who he was now, would scramble to receive the kind of parental love his two best friends took for granted despite this.

Harry looked back at Hermione, nodded once and watched with satisfaction as her face lit with happiness, albeit her smile was a little wobbly and her eyes became glassy in the light thrown across them from the magically reflected sky above.

"It's not going to happen right away Harry. Professor Dumbledore knows that too. And you can still be angry with him, Merlin knows you've got reason to but just...try ok?"

Harry nodded his assent once more though truth be told he wasn't sure this time exactly was he was agreeing to. _Try to do what exactly_?

"Right! Now that's over with, who wants to see what the Room of Requirement can really do??"

Ron's eyes were dancing as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation, his gaze going from Harry to Hermione and back again and Harry knew from experience that the excitement making his friends eyes twinkle wasn't due only to the prospect of mucking around but was also relief at the closure of an awkward and emotional conversation.

He clapped a hand around Ron's shoulder and squeezed the hand still held below his own in thanks, his cheeks pulled back in a warm smile that reflected his friends'. He felt much better than he had when he had woken from a fitful sleep that morning and though thoughts of Buckbeak, guardianship and prophecy still clogged his thoughts they no longer felt as heavy as they had earlier.

"I'm up for that. What do you say Hermione? Up for a little exploring??"

For the first time in what felt like months Harry felt excitement at the prospect of mucking around with his friends.

Hermione must have recognised the gleam in his eyes but rather than launch into a long winded speech on rules she curved her lips into an equally wicked smile and giggled.

"Well it is the summer holidays. And Professor Dumbledore did say we could.....explore."

The trio stood and started towards the main doors, a bounce in their steps as they laughed and bumped shoulders, an air of childish mischief around them.

888888

Harry was in heaven. Or at least his own version of what he imagined it should be like. With the sound of rushing air and his own heartbeat as a soundtrack he pushed the racing broom harder and managed to bring himself alongside his red haired friend who moments ago had sent him twirling in a sickening spin with a well placed boot to the twigs of his conjured broom.

It had transpired that the Room of Requirement was, quite simply, the most wonderful thing ever invented in the history of wizardom. Period. From a muggle adventure playground, an ornate library equipped with a replica of every book stocked at Hogwarts, an adult sized sandpit and now a Quiddich Racetrack, the magical room had interpreted their collective imaginations and requests and set about providing the trio with a magical equivalent.

"Watch _out_ Ron!"

Harry heard Hermione's shout and refocused in enough time to avoid the shimmering curtain put into Ron's path. The 'room' had transformed into what Ron had earlier called a Quiddich Track with a woop of childish glee. It reminded Harry of a downsized muggle Olympic running track only where there might have been hurdles, there were various magical obstructions that so far he'd managed to avoid. Ron had explained that both riders competed to complete as many circuits as they could while avoiding the tracks efforts to knock you off your broom. And he was doing brilliantly so far if he did say so himself, especially as it was his first time and the broom was not his own. Merlin he had missed flying!

Ron suddenly darted in front of him causing Harry to wobble unsteadily.

"Prat!'

Harry yelled to his grinning friend whose face was as red as his hair with exertion. They had been racing for what felt like forever, both competitive enough to try hard to beat the other. Hermione stood in the centre of the circuit, her head twisting repeatedly as she worked to keep them in sight at all times. She had of course expressed her concerns when she had learned the purpose of the track, quite vocally too, and had even threatened to leave the room altogether but Ron had sworn they would only do three circuits each and had promised that neither he nor Harry would be seriously hurt. Harry, when not furiously concentrating on his flight path, saw that she was now standing with her hands on her hips and her face in an angry and agitated scowl. They were on circuit 23 after all.

Refocusing, Harry tucked into a hard roll just in time to avoid a bludger like object as it cut across the track diagonally and righted himself in time to see the ball careen into Ron's chest and send him flying, this time without a broom. Harry braked hard enough to strain his muscles and spun, hand reaching automatically for his stowed wand, the combined yells from Ron and Hermione replacing the sound of the rushing air. Harry watched, first in horror and then bemusement as Ron suddenly slowed, stopped completely a few inches above the stone floor and then, as though a string had been cut, flopped the last distance to the floor with a sharp bump.

"Having fun?"

Three heads spun towards the doorway when the deep voice filled the room.

Dumbledore stood framed by the wooden doors in his travelling cloak, his wand still held loosely in his hand and his face betraying no particular emotion save polite curiosity.

Harry felt his face heat and fidigted uncomfortably on his broom, not sure whether to be embarassed, angry or contrite at having been discovered. Ron stood from where Dumbledore had deposited him and gave his backside a few rubs with one hand, his head bowed to study his shoes. It was obvious even from Harry's lofty viewpoint that his bestfriend was expecting a dressing down for their stunt.

"We were just.....that is to say we wanted to experiment with the magic in the room sir. To test its limits."

Hermione had unconsciously shuffled across the distance to Ron and looked both nervous and determined as she stared at the Headmaster.

"Harry? Come down please"

Harry jumped a little on the broom and felt a fresh flare of heat across his cheeks. Dumbledore didn't sound angry but nor did he sound his usual jovial self and Harry hesitated a few anxious heartbeats before he began a slow desent, leaping from the broom a few feet from his friends position and shuffling to stand beside them, his hands finding his pockets.

"Did you know competitors must be over 21 to compete in Quiddich races?"

Harry looked up from his shoes and glared slightly at his Professor, embarrassment turning to irritation fairly quickly.

"I didn't even know what a Quiddich Track _was_ till this appeared!"

He saw both Hermione and Ron turn their heads slightly in his direction and knew then that his answer had been as snappish as he thought. He hadn't meant for it to come out so.

Dumbledore stepped further into the room and Harry, as was usually the case during the school year, resisted the urge to step back. When he was standing in front of them Harry looked up at the considerably taller wizard and noticed for the first time that the Headmaster's face was drawn. It had been hard to tell from across the room. All irritation faded in an instant to be replaced with an intense stab of guilt. Despite his lingering awkwardness and resentment the last thing he wanted was to really upset the man. He closed the remaining distance in a quick step and looked up further, his eyes searching the wizards face as he spoke.

"I'm sorry. We shouldn't, that's to say Ron and I, shouldn't have flown the track sir. It was stupid..."

"Yes. It was. Though I am partly at fault too for not seeing what a desire to fly and a thirst for adventure could potentially produce. Let us all take something away from this experience hmm? Now come, all of you. There is something I wish to discuss with you in more appropriate surroundings."

With a grand gesture Dumbledore invited the three teens to precede him to the exit and they sullenly obeyed, two of the three looking over their shoulders for one last forlorn glance of the track - not noticing the twitching lips of their Headmaster as they did.

It was a quiet journey across the castle and Harry's mind churned in the silence. Had something happened? Perhaps at the Wizengamot while the Headmaster had been in attendance? Or at the Ministry? Maybe something had happened with the guardianship papers and they were no longer valid!

Harry blanched slightly at the last thought, confirming his feelings on the subject.

The staccato of footsteps stopped drawing Harry's attention back and he found himself in front of the gargoyle guarding the Headmasters office. Darting an enquiring glance at Dumbledore didn't shed any light as the wizard wasn't looking back but instead was glancing at the large pocket watch in his hand. The gargoyle immediately began to swivel, the noise of stone grinding against stone echoing around them as they all filed onto the ascending staircase, Harry and his friends reminisent of nervous kids shuffling onto the biggest rollercoaster in the theme park.

Harry's stomach fluttered and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he heard a cacophony of muffled voices issue from above them, male and female both. He hadn't realised the staircase had stopped until a warm hand closed over his shoulder and tugged him forward. Looking up he met Dumbledore's concerned gaze and was just about to ask the obvious question when the door before them was opened by one of his friends and the chatter he had heard en route became a brash din of loud conversation.

He shuffled forward when nudged and hesitantly entered the oval room, his eyes widening as he took in the assembled witches and wizards. Tonks caught his eye first, not surprising considering the electric blue shade of her hair. Next to her and looking every bit as intimidating as he always did was Kingsley Shackelbolt, his superior height and dark skin making him stand out from the crowd.

"Mum? Dad!?"

Harry turned at Ron's exclamations and felt his heartbeat stutter. Mr and Mrs Weasley stood just to the side of Dumbledore's desk sporting twin expressions of grave concern. At Ron's unasked question Harry watched as they hurried forward to grasp both of his friends in one armed hugs that they then used to herd them over to the wall, seemingly out of the way of the adults milling around.

"Anything?"

Harry's shoulders twitched in fright when Dumbledore spoke, forgetting for a minute that the wizard remained right behind him, his hands resting on both his tense shoulders. He received a gentle squeeze in response to his jump.

"Nothing yet. It shouldn't be too much longer though the last report had them already mobilised."

Heartbeat now thumping, Harry's eyes darted to the new voice and saw Moody standing to one side, his wand taping against his thigh in what appeared to be nervous anticipation. He could hear Hermione asking Mr Weasley a barrage of questions and decided he had waited long enough to ask his own. Spinning around, dislodging the comforting hands in the process, Harry found Dumbledore's serious gaze and braced himself.

"What's going on?"

In lieu of an answer, his Professor withdrew his wand and drew a series of zigzags in the air. A loud pop, as well as making everyone jump, produced three groups of armchairs and stools in various colours and different styles. From the corner of his eye he could see people shuffling into the seats with long sighs of either relief or impatience but he made no move to take the one obviously meant for him, set aside from the rest.

"I _will_ tell you Harry but it is rather a long story and one I would prefer to tell while sitting in a comfortable armchair."

Feeling as though he were being handled, albeit with good intentions, Harry reluctantly perched on the edge of the indicated chair and tried very hard not to fidget or lose his head. Once the headmaster was seated, so closely that his purple robes brushed his knees, the wizard leaned forward and cleared his throat.

"We have received advance warning that Voldemort plans to attack Privet Drive within the hour. The wards, as you know, have continued to weaken since your departure and when tested earlier, by one of Tom's regular scouts, were found to be weak enough to justify an attack..."

Harry's breath caught slightly in his throat as he tried to swallow against the dryness that had appeared in my mouth. His fingers tightened on the cords of his hooded jumper which he'd successfully wrapped around the tips of two digits while listening to his Professor. The dull throb of trapped blood barely registered.

"...We have of course checked that your family took my advice and left the area and I'm pleased to report that it seems in this at least they have done the right thing. The house is empty, save for a few opportunistic mice who have taken advantage of an empty dwelling."

Harry scrunched his forehead in confusion, his hands stilling their nervous tugging.

"But why sir? He already knows I'm not there. I mean that's what the whole vampire thing was about right? So why attack an empty house and risk a trap? It doesn't make sense."

Dumbledore nodded his head, his eyes crinkling a little around the edges as he smiled sadly at him in a way that twisted Harry's throat.

"Well reasoned Harry. Why indeed? It seems a fool's errand to attack an empty house just to show you can, especially, as you pointed out Harry, when it presents risks which far outweigh anything there is to gain. Or do they? You see Harry; the spell I cast when you were just a baby was some of the strongest, most potent magic I have ever cast. All blood based spell are restricted not because they are associated with dark arts, as most believe, but because the casting of them is a complicated and dangerous affair which can very easily go askew. The spell I cast drew from your mothers willing sacrifice and such spells are nearly unheard of as the circumstances needed to cast them successfully are, thankfully, rare. At the time of casting even I was doubtful of the spells ability to produce the wards and too of what side effects such potent magic would produce. As it transpires the spell was successful, the wards were effective and the only side-effect was that the spell itself hinged to you, the Evans bloodline and your magical signature, close as it was to your mothers. Hence why, as long as you lived with blood related family the wards would be as strong as they were the moment they were cast, right up until you came of age.

As it stands now, things have somewhat changed. You see I have been watching you closely my boy for any indication of the wards failure affecting you and have become aware of the fluctuations in your magic over the past week. I thought it merely a magical growth spurt, common at your age and usually recognised by bouts of late accidental magic, such as you have been displaying in recent days...."

Harry's face prickled with heat despite his growing dread and he chased an imaginary itch around to the back of his neck.

"...but I was not convinced."

Dumbledore stopped, his mouth forming a thin line as he pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly, his while hair catching the fading light coming in from the windows.

"I should have realised before now Harry that the wards collapse would affect you. I was entirely too optimistic and naive to think otherwise. The magic I invoked lives within your very blood, your own magical core even so it is only logical that its diminishment would be felt by you."

Harry shook his own head, his glasses sliding down a little on his nose in the process. Impatiently pushing them back he shuffled forward still further in his chair and matched the Headmasters troubled gaze.

"But I _haven't_ felt it! I mean I know I've been having....trouble...you know...controlling my magic and whatever but you said yourself that can be normal right? Who's to say that this has anything to do with the wards at all?"

But even as Harry spoke the words he knew he was setting himself up for a fall. Dumbledore was looking at him with a mixture of worry, guilt and conviction, a cocktail of feelings he had seen before. He had worn the same expression while telling him of the prophecy.

"Voldemort has set his mind on destroying the wards Harry because he thinks it will weaken you. He knows the wards nearly as well as I do my boy and has obviously come to the same conclusions I have, admittedly without the same hesitancy. There was nothing he could do to damage them before now; such was the circumstances of their inception. Now that they are within his power to destroy he will do so with every resource at his disposal."

The fireplace brought everyone's attention to it when it burst upwards in green flares of fire, the roar of flames dying off when a figure swathed in black materialised within the ornate cavern and strode into the room, his usually sallow skin sporting rare twin spots of light pink across well defined cheekbones. After a cursory glance around the room Snape's black gaze landed quickly on Harry, for only a moment, before he found Dumbledore's concerned features.

"Headmaster"

The sound of the deep rumble seemed to snap Harry from his incredulous stare and he shot to his feet, his face twisting in ugly lines of anger as he glared at his Potions Professor. It felt like he had stepped back to Privet Drive, when he sat for hours on end contemplating his Godfathers death and the role this man played in it, however roundabout. The hairs on his arms stood on end with static electricity as he glared furiously.

"What are _you_ doing here you bloody great ba...!"

Whatever epithet he had planned to use was lost when a large hand spun him about and he found himself face to face with the Headmaster again, whose eyes still held the concern and conviction from earlier but now glinted too with a hint of anger. His voice, though not a shout was loud enough to carry across the confines of the office and held an authority that Harry automatically shrunk from, unused as he was to being on the receiving end of it.

"_Enough_. Professor Snape is risking his life to bring us news. If you cannot address him with a civil tongue the very least you can do it sit quietly while he gives his report. Am I clear?"

It was a sharp and very public rebuke and Harry felt his eyes suddenly prickle with emotion, his muscles stiff with rigidity from holding himself so tense. Firming his jaw against it he looked down at his hands which were again trying to strangle his fingers with the rope of his hood and fought the instinct to turn his anger onto the man defending the target of his ire. He saw the bottom of the Headmasters robe swirl with motion as the wizard stepped around him to address his probably smirking Professor.

"What news Severus?"

"It has begun. I am still unsure whether the Dark Lord intends to participate but he has instructed McNair, Goyle, Avery, Lucius and Belletrix to begin as soon as the recruits have finished scouting the area."

"And what of you Severus?"

Harry heard a snort of either laughter or irritation.

"He wants me here to monitor the effect, if any, on the boy wonder. I did try to explain our resident hero is beyond such..."

"Please, Severus"

Harry swiveled and raised his face to look at both wizards at the silence that followed Dumbledore's surprising plea which, to everyone else in the room, was doused in undertones of disappointment. The Headmaster had his hands folded behind his back and was looking across the tops of his glasses at Snape, the very picture of a father waiting with extended patience. Harry watched as the colour that had been fading into the stony white pallor of the man's face once again blossomed to bring a shockingly apparent flush to his cheeks. He caught Harry's wide-eyed look and curled a lip slightly before modifying and redirecting his gaze to the Headmaster.

If possible Harry's eyebrows crept even further towards his hairline at the mostly silent exchange.

"Have you any idea how long the wards will hold under the combined efforts of the Death Eaters I mentioned?"

Snape's voice did not sound sulky to Harry's ears yet the impression remained that he was. Dumbledore stepped closer to Harry and looked him over while answering Snape. Harry squirmed slightly under the wizards gaze.

"They have deteriorated considerably over the past few days but they should continue to present a challenge to those you mentioned. How long will he allow them to try before he becomes impatient do you think?"

Severus shifted, his face betraying a spike of...pain?...as he did. Apparently Harry was not the only one to notice as Dumbledore immediately crossed the distance between them and reached for Snape's hand. Harry looked on as the Headmaster held the hand out in front of him and watched, as well as everyone else in the room, as it trembled. With a sound of impatience the Potions Master snapped his hand back to his side and glared at the wizard in front of him as he answered. It was obvious from the way the two wizards were looking at each other that, again, a measure of unspoken communication was going on.

"I'd give it ten minutes, perhaps less. If we want to have a chance at any of them we need to mobilise right now. If we leave it to chance we risk his appearance in the middle of an all out battle."

Dumbledore nodded as she strode up to his desk, his eyes catching Kingsley's as he began to open drawers.

"The Ministry?"

Harry's eyes darted between Dumbledore, Snape and Kingsley as the Auror's slow, melodic voice filled the room. As the man answered the vague question, Dumbledore found what he was looking for and crossed the room once more, his hand closed around a small potions bottle.

"The Minister is prepared to give the Order whatever support we require, including the Aurors Albus. I have them stationed just outside Surrey awaiting further instruction."

Harry watched as Severus blinked at the potion thrust under his considerable nose and then scowled at the Headmaster, his shaky hand batting it gently away. Mrs Weasley's voice drew Harry's attention from the by-play between his Headmaster and Potions Professor.

"And what of the rest of the Muggles, the neighbours and so forth?" Molly asked, her hands continuing to hold Ron and Hermione, both of whom wore expressions Harry imagined matched his own.

When Harry turned to listen to Tonks' answer he saw the Potions Master swallow down the contents of the potion from the corner of his eye.

"The rest of the cul-de-sac was convinced it was an ideal evening to go bowling. As soon as the Aurors arrive a containment shield will be erected and held by two non-engagers hidden elsewhere in the neighbourhood. It's standard procedure when an unfriendly exchange is a possibility." Tonks' hair seem to catch fire then, its strands shortening and rippling as the electric blue was swallowed up by the luminous red.

Mr Weasley stepped forward then, his hand slipping from Ron's shoulder with a final pat as he turned to Dumbledore.

"Perhaps the children should get going Albus, I'm sure they've heard quite enough. Molly will take them to the Burrow and keep an eye on them for the duration."

Harry met Ron and Hermione's panicked gaze across the room and opened his mouth to protest at exactly the same moment.

"But..!"

"No way...!"

"Sir _please_...!"

"**Quiet!!"**

All three stopped at the Headmasters shout. Harry inserted himself between Snape and Dumbledore, his eyes bright as he looked imploringly at him.

"Don't send them away sir. They're as safe here as anywhere right? And they basically know everything that's going on now so..."

"Harry dear, don't question the Headmaster. He was good enough to allow Ron and Hermione the chance to find out what's happening, against my advice I may add and really the last thing the Order needs is a troop of teens underfoot anyway. Now come along Ron, Hermione, that's right. Albus I'll just use your floo if you don't mind?"

"But mum...!" Ron's anger found a target slightly less scary than the Headmaster. Mrs Weasley however was not in the mood to be swayed it seemed. She had just rounded on her youngest son with her hands on her hips when Mr Weasley interrupted, stepping between both redheads.

"Do as your mum says son and don't argue. This isn't the time for backchat ok?"

Harry could see something of himself in Ron as his friend bowed his head to his father, his cheeks deepening in colour as he shot furtive glances at the people around him.

Hermione quickly closed the distance to stand in front of Harry, her eyes a bit frantic as she looked him over, reminding Harry a bit of Mrs Weasley's inspection whenever he arrived at the Burrow from the Dursleys.

"Use Hedwig. Keep us updated ok? And remember what I said Harry. Give him a chance to look after you and don't do anything rash. I'm sure everything will fine, I've read a little about the effects of long term magi..."

Mrs Weasley interrupted then by pulling Harry into a tight hug, her considerable bosom muffling his ear at one side as she spoke.

"Be well Harry dear. I'm just a floo away if you need anything at all ok?"

Harry nodded as she drew away and tried not to wince as she patted his cheek a few times, her watery eyes glistening. Sliding her arm across Hermione's shoulders she started towards the floo where Mr Weasley was waiting with the pot of floo powder in one hand and Ron's shoulder in the other.

He had only a brief moment of eye contact with his miserable looking friend before his view was blocked by Mad-eye and Kingsley, both of whom were moving towards the Headmaster.

"Snape and you are out. That leaves Kingsley, Shakelbolt , Remus, Arthur, Tonks, Dedalus, Bill and me from the Order and about fifteen Aurors. If we leave now we'll have about five minutes to capture or incapacitate the majority. Am I missing anything?"

Harry listened with a growing sense of dread as Mad-eye listed names as though he were organising nothing more dangerous than a cricket match. He jumped as the floo roared again and turned just in time to see the vague outline of his friends as they were whisked away. Harry felt as though everything was happening too fast.

"Take this. If Voldemort appears before your retreat one of you must activate it to alert me and I will apparate with Fawkes to your position."

Harry's stomach jumped at that statement and watched as Dumbledore handed Arthur a galleon, his hand clapping Moody's shoulder, then Tonks, then...

A sharp knife-like pain stabbed at Harry's forehead so suddenly and unexpectedly that he couldn't mask his reaction quick enough and drew the eyes of everyone in the room as he hissed an exclamation and rubbed his blazing scar furiously. Dumbledore was at his side instantly, a hand removing his own as the older wizard studied the swollen, jagged scar through his glasses. Harry twitched against the hold the Headmaster had of his wrist wanting nothing more than to apply pressure to his aching skin but his hand was held at bay. Snape glided to their position and peered down his nose at him, his eyebrow arching over his black eye as he studied him like he would a live potions ingredient, at least in Harry's opinion. Another flare of pain brought his teeth together in a fierce clamp and he reached again with the hand not being held to rub away the sting, only to have that one caught too. Before he had a chance to snap at the Headmaster to leave him be the wizard dropped his hand again and smoothed his own palm over his whole forehead, his pinkie finger covering his eyes in the process. Harry leaned into the touch, his eyes now closed, and almost groaned in relief when an icy coolness spread across his skin, dampening the burning heat issuing from his scar. He lifted his own hand and pressed it against Dumbledore's.

"Well if that's not a sign I don't know what it. Is everyone ready?"

Harry felt the Headmaster shift at Tonks' comment and pressed against the source of relief in mild panic but the hand stayed where it was, it's radiating coolness gradually chasing the pain away.

"You have alerted the others? Very well. Do not take unnecessary risks. You will have only a few minutes before a retreat or the appearance of reinforcements. Do what you can but you are to retreat at the first sign of the situation spiralling out of your control. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly Albus. We'll be good."

There was a rumble of laughter at Moody's comment and then the sound of the floo being used, its multiple roars drowning out the sound of rushing blood in Harry's ears. The pain in his head was dimming to a dull ache and he lessened the amount of pressure he was pushing against the wrinkled hand still covering the top of his face.

"How do you feel Harry?"

The rumble of Dumbledore's voice was an added comfort and he dropped his hand as he backed away altogether, the light in the room forcing him to blink several times as his eyes readjusted. There was only the sound of his own slowing breathing and the clicks and ticks of the Headmasters various knick knacks filling the room now and Harry felt himself relax slightly.

"Better sir. Thanks for...umm, whatever it was you did. It helped loads."

Dumbledore's face lifted in a smile, his eyes fanning around the edges as he did so.

"It was nothing Harry. Do you feel anything else? Aside from scar pain? Did you see anything?"

Harry was feeling a multitude of things. Horror at what the Order planned to do, fear that Remus was apparently part of it, sadness that his friends had been whisked away, dread that something was possibly going to happen to him.....

"Was the question too complicated for you small mind to comprehend Potter?"

With a snarl of his own Harry rounded on the Potions Professor, angry with himself for forgetting he was still in the room. The tall wizard stood in the far corner, his long fingered hands grasping his elbows as he glared at Harry in distaste, as though the very sight of him was offensive. A surge of anger boiled up from his stomach as he matched the glare being levelled at him. Dumbledore blocked his view of his nemesis before he could form a reply and he redirected his angry scowl at the blue gaze focused on him.

"Do not let Severus' childish taunts get to you Harry. You must concentrate on keeping yourself on as even a keel as you can. It will be easier for me to gauge any effects the wards damage or destruction has on you. Ok?"

Harry barely had time to nod his head, albeit reluctantly, before the Headmaster was twirling towards Snape.

"A word if you please Severus."

Not waiting for a reply the Headmaster turned towards the recess behind his desk and strode quickly, a somewhat paler Snape following the wizards wake. Harry couldn't help but throw a smirk as he caught his professor's black eyes as he passed him, his anger fading as he vindictively cheered at the thought of Snape getting an earful. Bloody Git. The sound of indistinct whispering accompanied his trip to the chair nearest the low burning fire where he collapsed with all the flair of a teenager. The various wizards and witches who had employed the floo had left behind a glittering layer of floo powder on the stone floor and Harry followed the twinkling spots as he reclined in the seat, his thoughts swirling from one thing to the other. It was while he was wondering why Remus hadn't flooed through to Hogwarts to see him before now if he was obviously not involved in a mission when he first felt...something. Squirming a little in his seat, as though to tunnel further into its depths, he tried to ignore it but the feeling was so alien that was impossible. If forced to describe it Harry wasn't sure what he would say. It felt a little like all the personal, happy moments in his life, like Mrs Weasley's hugs, Ron and Hermione's friendship, Dumbledore's warm gaze, even Hogwarts' safety were being drawn away. Standing quickly brought the attention of the two wizards who were coming back into the office proper and they both rushed to his side, Dumbledore grasping his upper arm in one hand as he frowned worriedly at him.

"What is it Harry? Do you feel unwell?"

Harry rubbed at his chest and tried to ignore Snape as the Potions Professor drew his wand and waved it over his head.

"Something's not right. I don't know. It feels strange, like...I..."

"His pulse and blood pressure are elevated. There are elevated levels of adrenaline in his system but his magical core seems stable at least. The rest can be attributed to his current state."

Dumbledore lead him back the few steps to the seat he had vacated and encouraged him to sit while he spoke.

"It is only a guess Severus but I don't believe that whatever effect the wards failure will have on Harry will show in any medical scans. The magic is...part of who he has grown to be..."

"I'm sitting right here!" Harry sniped; his confusion and panic clear to the two wizards standing over him. Dumbledore crouched in front of him and took the hand he was rubbing across his chest in frantic movements.

"I'm sorry Harry. You are right; it was rude of me to speak as though you weren't here. What you are feeling will not last my boy; of that at least I am certain. It is my belief that once the wards collapse and the magic anchored to you dissipates, you will return to your normal self none the worse for wear. In the meantime, you are not alone and Severus and I will do everything we possibly can to help you."

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down despite the alien sensations coursing through him still. He tightened his hold on the hand loosely holding his own and felt the pressure returned, the simple act bringing his eyes up to Dumbledore who was still crouched before him.

"This is your magic? That's going away?"

Dumbledore's face softened from the tight lines of worry at the softly asked question, his other hand moving to cover the one already being grasped by Harry. There was something in the wording and voice that tugged at the Headmasters heart and he took a few seconds to think over an answer before nodding his head slightly. The last thing he wanted was to upset the boy further.

"In part Harry. It was by my wand that the spell was invoked but the protection offered by it was rooted primarily on your mothers sacrifice."

The horrible feeling grew by degrees and Harry forced himself to concentrate on the Headmasters answer in an effort to quell any reaction. He was vaguely aware of Snape waving his wand again as he spoke but determinedly ignored it, a horrible suspicion growing in the back of his mind.

"But how can I feel her sacrifice? I don't understand"

Harry didn't miss the uncomfortable look that passed between both men as Dumbledore looked up briefly to catch Snape's eye. When Harry caught Snape's eye for the first time since this began he was taken aback to see a shadow of pity in the man's obsidian gaze. He looked away only when a particulary strong tug of something filled his chest and Harry pulled his hands from Dumbledore to again rub his chest as though the motion itself would help keep the warmth at bay. Despite his best efforts, panic continued to push at him, forcing his voice higher and tighter.

"What is this?! What's happening to me? And it's not you magic; I know what that feels like and it isn't....it isn't.....sad! Or or cold or anything like this!!"

Dumbledore again reached for Harry's hands and settled for his upper arms when Harry pulled them back, his eyes frantic and glassy as he glared at his Professor.

"Don't lie to me"

It was meant to be an angry command but both Professors heard the plea behind it. Dumbledore released Harry and used the arm of the chair to find his feet, thanking Severus as the usually snarky potions professor closed a hand around the Headmasters bicep in support.

Harry, feeling incredibly small while looking up at the two towering wizards attempted to find his own feet and was glad when neither teacher moved to intervene. He continued to glare at the old wizard in front of him though, his eyes demanding an answer.

"The magic you feel being pulled away is not completely my own, as you first thought, but Lily's. Your mothers. You see in order to ...."

Harry stared at Dumbledore but stopped listening, his brow wrinkling in confusion as he tried to comprehend what he was being told. His mums? But....

And then he remembered himself as a much smaller boy, sitting battered and bruised in the hospital wing surrounded by more sweets and tokens of affection than he had received his entire early childhood, listening as the Headmaster explained that love was what had saved him. That it lived in his very skin.....

The sickening conclusion of what was being taken away from him had him reeling, his eyes impossibly wide and horrified behind his smudged glasses.

"My mum's?......he's taking it!......NO!!!!"

Harry barreled past both wizards before they had a chance to react and had made it all the way to the fireplace before two arms finally closed around him like bands of steel effectively halting any further movement.

"Let go of me!!! I'll kill that bastard, let me go!!! Let me GO!!!!!"

Harry's heels stuttered over a rug as he was unwillingly dragged backwards, away from the fireplace and the small pot of floo powder resting atop it. He pulled at the arms across him with all of his might but they may as well have been made of concrete for the good it did. He could feel his sense of urgency increase as he realised the hopelessness of his situation.

"Get your hands off me!!! Let me go!! Get off!!!"

"Stop your infernal rackett and _listen_ to me! Whatever hairbrained idea you have got in your head - forget it. Neither I nor the Headmaster will allow you to run off half cocked on what amounts to a bloody suicide mission! What you are feeling now is not _real_."

The rumble of Professor Snape's voice right at Harry's ear was disconserting enough to still his violent attempts at escape. Breathing harshly and with his hands still clutching at the arms across him he bucked a few times more as he spoke, assentuating his assertions.

"Why hold me back then! I thought you and your boss would like nothing better than to see me dead!!"

Dragged stumbling backwards and spun around, Harry found himself unceremoniosly pushed into a corner before he knew what was happening. Instead of turning around, Harry leaned his head against the cold stone wall and brought his hands up to push slightly against the uneven finish, his whole body pulsing with the fading feeling of his mot......NO!!!! Slapping his hand against the wall brought no relief, save a sharp sting and he turned with a snarl to make another attempt to stop this, his magic coming to the fore as he stared at both Snape and Dumbledore, standing shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the raised dias he had been dragged onto.

"Please. You've got to try to stop him. I can help...!"

"Don't be ridiculous Potter."

A stack of papers on Dumbledore's desk just to Harry's right flew sideways to collide with the wall, the parchments fluttering to the floor serenely despite their violent collision.

"_I wasn't speaking to you!!_"

Harry saw dumbledore lay a hand on Severus's arm briefly and was somewhat relieved when the dour wizard nodded and spun away, his long legs carrying him to the other side of the office where he once again leaned on the wall beside the wooden entryway, his eyes studying the flagstones at his feet.

"You will _always_ have your mothers love Harry. That is not nor will it _ever_ be taken away from you. What you are feeling now is only the magical manification of that, the echo of the conviction she felt when she gave her life for yours. "

Dumbeldore stepped closer and Harry could feel the telltale tingling in his hands dull even as the feeling in his chest intensified. He rubbed the fabric of his sweater across his chest in agitated swipes as he listened to the Headmaster, his eyes desperate as he locked gazes with the wizard.

"The magic holding the wards would never have lasted indefinetely Harry and, in all likelihood, would have faded gradually when you came of age next year. What you are experiencing is a reaction to the fast withdrawal of a potent magic your body has grown accustomed to. I realise it is wrenching, I do my boy, but defending the wards is pointless. It will be over soon, I promise."

Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot, his urge to do something stronger than his ability to see reason. A part of him did realise that what Dumbledore was saying make sense but all he could feel was the dimming sensation of something he hadn't realised was there until the evil snake bastard decided to take it away. Like he took away everything else that meant anything to him. Well not without a fight. Not this time.

With an aggrevated growl Harry lurched forward and made to sprint towards the fire once more, his heart pounding as he made it to the base of the Dias, his route taking him the long way around the Headmasters desk so as not to pass the man himself. He saw Snape straighten to intercept and had even withdrawn his wand to clear the snarky git from his path when he suddenly felt every pulse of energy drain from him as though someone had pulled the plug. He staggered a few more steps and was forced to stop short of reaching his goal when his legs wobbled alarmingly under him. He leaned heavily against the circular table at his side and looked back at Dumbledore just in time to watch the Headmaster slip his wand into his wide sleeve.

"_What'd you do_? Stop it!!"

Dumbeledore stepped towards him and crouched to pick up Harry's wand which had been rolling lazily across the slanted stone. Harry didn't recall even dropping it.

"He's taking it away. My mums.....it's all I've got left!!!"

Harry pleaded, his chin trembling as he leaned forward to rest his hands against his knees in an effort to remain upright. The feeling of something inside him slipping away was lessening but rather than bring relief, now that Harry was aware of what he was losing, intense sadness was what filled him instead.

His vision was filled with the purple roles of the Headmaster as the wizard pulled him up by the shoulders and into a tight embrace that, at first, Harry twitched against in protest but finally leaned into with a shuddering breath, the feeling in his chest finally fading with one last catch. At the same time a sharp hiss sounded from behind him and Harry felt the Headmaster tense beneath his cheek but hadn't the energy to investigate. He let more of his weight rest against the bulk of his guardian and was thankful for the folds of the man's generous robe that kept his face hidden from the room. The desperation to leave had drained from him as effectively as Dumbeldore's spell had drained him of his energy and as the seconds ticked by he felt himself steady and calm, the past few minutes replaying across his mind. He felt a slow blush warm his neck as he considered his actions, so far removed from how he had planned to tackle any reaction he may have had.

"It is done. He wouldn't summon me otherwise."

At the sound of the Potions Professor's voice, tight with a tension that Harry assumed was either due to his imminent audience with Voldmort or the sight of he, Harry bundled up againt the Headmaster, the floo flared to life with a whoosh and Mad-Eye stepped through. Harry shifted slightly so that he could partly see the ex auror but made no other move to disentangle from the robe he realised he was clutching. Whatever Dumbledore had cast was slow to fade and Harry knew he needed the physical support just as much as the emotional kind. His handfuls of silky robe where serving more purpose than keeping him on his feet if he were honest with himself.

"Alastor. It's good to see you unharmed. What happened?"

Moody's magical eye whined and clicked as it spun and zoomed in on Harry but his own eye was focused above Harry's head, no doubt holding the Headmasters gaze.

"One dead, one captured, two injured. Arthur's reflector worked a treat, sent Avery's dismemberment hex right back at him; the nasty bastard didn't know what had happened till it was too late. Malfoy and Goyle were both injured, but the Aurors only managed to capture Goyle Snr, it looks like Lucius was able to activate an emergency portkey. It was Bellatrix and McNair who brought the wards down in the end and she was able to escape before any anti-apparation wards could be established. McNair fled on foot and it's assumed he made it beyond the temporary wards. No sign of you-know-who thankfully, though our ambush might provoke one now."

Harry attempted to straighten from his position only to be pressed even tighter to the chest he was leaning against. The rumble of Dumbledore's voice tickled the ear pressed flat against his robe.

"Not yet Harry, be still. The Order? Aurors?"

"Bastards took two Aurors; McDonald was brought down by Malfoy and Mason by Goyle. Good men, both of them. Tonks caught the wash of a nasty cutting curse and is being treated, under protest, at Mungos but should be fine. Arthurs being treated for a broken arm at headquarters, where the rest are waiting to report."

"Thank you Alastor. Perhaps you would be so good as to floo back to grimmnald place and pass the news that Harry is fine and that I will be there shortly."

"Well take your time Albus. Looks to me like the lad could use you for a while longer."

A brilliant blush crept across Harry's cheeks from his hot ears, painting his pale face like a character from the circus. He had followed the conversation between the two older wizards from his comfortable position and while feeling his previously lax limbs tingle with the return of his previous strength.

"I will accompany you and leave from headquarters. It is quicker than walking to the edge of the grounds and I am cognisant that keeping the dark lord waiting any longer will not improve his no doubt stellar mood"

Silence followed Snapes monotone announcement and Harry finally lifted his head, Dumbledore's hands sliding from his back to his shoulders in the process but it was the Potions Master who held the Headmaster's attention.

"_Severus_....."

So much was clear in that one word. Dumbledore's extreme concern for the wizard, his regret that in a few short minutes the man would be in Voldermorts presence and at the psychopath's mercy and, worst of all, the knowledge he would not stop him. Harry looked up at Snape with pitying eyes for as much as he hated the Potions Master he would never wish an angry Voldemort on anyone, not even his enemy. And as Harrys head continued to clear the realisation that Snape had put himself in a very comprimising position became clearer. Not only would Voldermort ask why the Potions Master was not aware of the ambush; the paranoid psychopath would question how the Order came by the intelligence in the first place. As the pale wizard's black gaze slid to Harry it quickly hardened and Harry watched as the intimidating man straightened his back and snapped his robes behind him, his lips twisting over his words.

"Save your concern for the boy Albus. My shields are impenetrable, as we both know and I am too valuable to be....disposed of. I will report what we agreed and be back as soon as I am able."

Bile rose in Harry's throat as he caught the meaning behind that last word. The potions professor was obviously expecting to be tortured and yet he stood as though he were planning an expedition to nowhere more dangerous than Quality Quiddich.

"Well let's be off then. There's a bottle of Firewhisky with my name on it!"

Moody limped back to the fireplace and set the low flames flaming emerald with a generous dash of powder. Harry shuffled to lean against the circular table at Dumbledore's direction and watched as the Headmaster grasped Snape's arm and walked him to the fire, his head bend towards the curtain of stringy black hair as he muttered in the man's ear.

Harry straightened from the table and took a few tentative steps towards the fire, feeling the mad urge to say something comforting to the man who had belittled him at every chance he could get.

"Professor..."

Three heads snapped around at the title and Harry felt his head sink a little into his shoulders at the attention. Tucking his hands into the pouch at the front of his jumper, he directed his hesitant stare at Snape and felt his mouth move, his lips forming half formed silent words in the air - unsure as he was of how to communicate what he felt. His abortive attempts were obviously having the opposite effect than what he had intended as Snape's chest swelled and eyes narrowed in what Harry knew, from experience, were sure signs of an imminent outburst.

"I just..." he stuttered.

"If your intent is to stall my leaving long enough to worsen my reception you are doing a sterling job Potter. Spit it out!"

Harry's previous blush came roaring back and any sympathy he felt for the man was burnt away by it. He returned the fierce glare being focussed on him and hardened his voice, the familiar and somewhat comforting anger returning in a hot rush.

"Forget it. Tell Tom I said hi."

He knew as soon as the words had left his mouth that it was a horrible thing to say but forced down the swell of shame and turned away from the mixed stares, intent on retreating to his room for the remainder of the summer.

Authors Note: Well. It wouldn't be a chapter of Reparo if Harry wasn't upset about something would it? Lol. Now's your chance to enter the competition, details at the top of the page, and make the author happy : ) How can you resist? Xx

Review responses:

Elita One  
2009-09-30 . chapter 11

aww a sweet but sad story

Thanks for taking the time to comment, I'm so glad you're enjoying my fic 

Ulliander  
2009-08-16 . chapter 11

great story, it really got me glued to my chair until I was fiished!  
please, please keep writing!  
greetings from germany  
ulli

**Hello from Scotland!! ******** Thanks so much for taking the time to review, it's really appreciated. I've taken your advice to heart I think and produced the longest chapter to date! **

MCross  
2009-07-31 . chapter 11

Fantastic chapter! I love how both Harry and Dumbledore make mistakes, it makes them so human.

I love this fic. I can't wait for the next chapter. More please!

**Thanks so much for reviewing. I know is horribly cliché but it really does give me the encouragement I need to get the next instalment done. I agree that imperfect characters are more believable not to mention fun to write! ******** Getting Harry and Dumbledore right is a constant challenge so I appreciate your vote of confidence.**

kittyrunner  
2009-07-30 . chapter 11

Wow! What a fantastic treat! I was so excited to see this updated! And the wait for this one (though a bit long) was worthwhile, because this chapter is simply outstanding! I can't get over how well you write the dialogue between Harry and Dumbledore! You stay true to the characters both in speech and in body language. Your narrative flows by so naturally and effortlessly, too! I particularly love the ending of this chapter--It is so sweet how Dumbledore and Harry are bonding more and more. I love seeing Albus's paternal side! ...I wonder who the mystery person is...Snape? Lupin? I guess I'll just have to wait to find out! In the meantime, I am going to be re-reading the earlier chapters! Please update as soon as you can!

**I so look forward to your reviews as they are always crammed with compliments and words of support ******** I'm flattered that you are enjoying the story so much as I don't believe it is in the same league as your 'Time of Transition' which, incidentally, is overdue an update or 3 no? Lol Can't blame a girl for trying. You would think that the more chapters you write the easier the dialogue would flow but I have found the opposite to be true for some bizarre reason. It is definitely the hardest part of writing this fic so your positive comments have gone down a treat. **

xXxKIxXx  
2009-07-28 . chapter 11

Yay! I think this chapter was exceptionally well written. Love the interaction. Kudos

**Thank you so much for your kind comments. I never tire of hearing from readers and yours definitely brought a smile to my face ******

AngelMoon Girl  
2009-07-27 . chapter 11

Yay, are we gonna see some Voldemort? Another amazingly well-written chapter; as always I enjoyed Harry and Dumbledore's burgeoning relationship and all the angst that entails. Wonderful fic! Keep going!

**You know, this type of fic is not everyone's cup of tea so I really appreciate a reader giving feedback and yours definitely gave me the feel good factor. Thank you so much for your ongoing support of my fic AngelMoon Girl, you've been a great support from the start ******

ninjagirl91  
2009-07-21 . chapter 11

wow I love this story i hope u update soon

**I hope the wait was worthwhile and you enjoyed this chapter too ******** Thank you for continuing to support Reparo, I love hearing from you! X**

Crazy-Physco  
2009-07-21 . chapter 11

great chapter

**Sometimes all it takes is those two exact words to make hours of work worth it so I want to thank you for taking the time to do so ******

mcfly1988  
2009-07-20 . chapter 11

So I just caught up with this entire thing last night and I really loved it (this chapter especially when Harry "goes off" so to speak on Dumbledore). I really love the way that you have characterized both of them; it is very realistic.  
I'm looking forward to seeing Harry let Dumbledore in a bit more since they're still in that "tip-toeing" around the issue stage a little bit. The dynamic should get even more interesting once school starts.  
I'm looking forward to reading more. I saw the note on your profile and I'd be happy to wall ball ideas for this story if you'd like.

**Hey McFly! Thanks so much for taking the time to write a long note, it gave me a warm fuzzy reading it ******** I'm glad you are enjoying the story so much and hope this latest chapter was more of the same for you. I agree that things are still tentative and awkward between the two at the moment, which has been really difficult to write I have to say! Lol, but I too am looking forward to a more relaxed relationship and we are definitely moving in that direction. I can't wait to get there, there's so many scenarios that I could write I'll be hard pressed to finish this!! Lol. Oh and any suggestions for future scenes? Let me know ;) **

Mikee  
2009-07-19 . chapter 11

Cool chapter.

I especially liked the paragraph in which Albus tells Harry, "..as much as you hate to hear it my boy, you are a child, a minor and unqualified. ..."

I love the whole paragraph, but since you wrote it, I see no reason to re-type the full thing here ... sorry. -grin-

I also liked how Albus was when Harry had his nightmare -- especially when Albus said, "I do not know why your stubbornness continues to exasperate me Harry; your father was exactly the same."I could really picture the headmaster saying that, as well as just about everything he said throughout the chapter. Well done, indeed.

I'm looking forward to seein what the next chapter brings.

Thank you

**No- thank you! Lol. What a lovely review! I especially love when readers tell me which parts of the story they particulary liked and I'm glad you chose to do so ******** It's so hard to write Dumbledore so thanks for the support. When I'm constructing a sentence for him I can sit for ages going over it in my head and still think at the end – nope, not wise enough lol. Thanks again for taking the time and I hope to hear from you again!**

Element's Sole Protector  
2009-07-19 . chapter 11

Oh, who IS back...?!?  
I can't believe you made it back to the land of fanfiction! I missed you, especially after the epic vampire chapter! Good job also in addressing the fact that Harry might feel that the professors actually do encourage him to do all the dangerous stuff he's done over the past few years...a new idea, I'd never seen that anywhere else.  
Can't wait to see you again! Congrats on the good chapter!

**Oh Element, what would a new chapter be without an input from you? ******** I so look forward to your comments and you are as reliable as.....something very reliable lol. I agree that last time was far too long between chapters so to make up for my disappearance act I'm posting a 2-for-1 chapter, just for you ;) lol. Thanks for continuing to support Reparo, it really is very much appreciated! Xx**

cyiusblack  
2009-07-18 . chapter 11

update soon

**Thank-you so much for your support. I hope this was soon enough for you and that you enjoyed it ******

alexandra3776  
2009-07-18 . chapter 11

Nice try on explaining Dumbledore's encouragement of Harry's adventures, but it just doesn't wash.

"Do not mistake my leniency for approval"

Leniency implies that he got a lesser punishment than he should have. However Harry wasn't punished at all! He was rewarded! He was not lectured, he was not told not to do it again. He was rewarded! I reward my child when he does something I want to encourage. I don't give him a treat because he manages to climb down off the bookshelves without hurting himself. I punish him for doing it in the first place. Rewarding behavior expresses approval.

"you are wrong to assume that I have not done everything in my power to try to prevent them."

Oh, and his encouragement for Harry and Hermione to go into the forest with a werewolf and dementors on the loose was an attempt to "prevent them?" Why didn't he just do it himself if he was "so concerned" for Harry's welfare? When you put this incident together with the ones in previous years, it is obvious that he encouraged this behavior, not disapproving it as you contend.

"had I known your relatives were treating you so abominably, that you were suffering abuse at the hands of your uncle"

Well, he certainly knew that Harry was being verbally abused, imprisoned, and not adequately fed. Most people with a shred of morality would consider that being treated "abominably."

I felt it was the least I could do..." for what? for allowing the abuse to continue despite your responsibility as an adult and educator to report it and have the perpetrator prosecuted (which he still didn't do even when he knew that they hit him)?

I am not one of those people that think Dumbledore in evil or manipulative, but I do think that he has encouraged Harry to put himself in these situations. It is unreasonable for him to think that a few days of cuddling Harry will break the habits that Dumbledore has instilled in him or allow Harry to rely on him to the degree that Dumbledore wants him to. Harry has spent 15 years basically taking care of himself. The Dursleys certainly never helped him with anything. His first two years at Hogwarts, he tried to go to the staff for help and they either didn't believe him(McGonnogal) or were too incompetent to do any good(Lockhart), then in fifth year Dumbledore deserted him. Is it really that surprising that Harry has difficulties trusting that adults will handle the emergency if he goes to them?

**Well. You certainly have some issues but I'm not sure they are all with my fic ******** Reading this I couldn't help but come to the conclusion that many of your issues are with the actual books. Which is fine! I too have took issue with some of the decisions Dumbledore made in cannon but the joy of fan fiction is the authors licence to disregard, change or fill in parts they do not like or want to see changed ******** I am not taking away from anything you said and I certainly never perceived them as flames in any way but....not one tiny compliment? Not very nice ******** I appreciate you taking the time to read the entirety of the fic though. I'm taking it as a compliment that I managed to evoke such a powerful response lol! xx**

affleckfan08  
2009-07-18 . chapter 11

im so glad there's a new chapter! great addition! :)

**Yours was the first review I received and prompted a 'phew!' moment of epic proportions lol. Thanks so much for taking the time to review, it really is very much appreciated. I'm glad you are enjoying the story and look forward to hearing from you again! xx**


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Congrats to MissDonna who won the Halloween (hides face – has it been so long?) competition. MissDonna requested a confrontation between Harry and (?) and so here it is. This chapter has been sitting on my hard drive for months as i was determined to add more to it but that hasn't happened so i thought i may as well post what i had. I've lost some of my enthusiasm for the story, it seems to take me longer to get motivated to write so i'm hoping that some reviews of this chapter will give me the oomph to get back into it. If that made any sense. Anyway, enjoy!

Previously:

"_I just..." he stuttered._

"_If your intent is to stall my leaving long enough to worsen my reception you are doing a sterling job Potter. Spit it out!"_

_Harry's previous blush came roaring back and any sympathy he felt for the man was burnt away by it. He returned the fierce glare being focussed on him and hardened his voice, the familiar and somewhat comforting anger returning in a hot rush._

"_Forget it. Tell Tom I said hi."_

_He knew as soon as the words had left his mouth that it was a horrible thing to say but forced down the swell of shame and turned away from the mixed stares, intent on retreating to his room for the remainder of the summer. _

Wilspy had, at Harry's request, cheerily collected his various knick knacks and the few items of clothing he had taken with him to Gryffindor Tower in preparation for a short stay with his friends. Thanks to Voldemorts recent actions that short break had turned into an overnight stay and Harry was back, minus his best friends, to his bedroom in the Headmasters private suite. He had asked Dumbledore's elf if she would mind collecting the wizarding wireless from the common room and he sat now immersed in the loud thumping beat of a rock song he vaguely recognised with open books around him, covering half the bed. He was searching, rather frantically, for a general unsticking charm and wishing regretfully that he had done so in the first place.

Wilspy, the shrewd little elf she was, had, while collecting the radio, taken it upon herself to pilfer a few posters from the fifth year boys dormitories and had stuck them to the wall when Harry had been in the loo earlier in an effort to cheer him. Unfortunately one of the posters she had magically stuck to the exposed stone, and in clear view of the rest of the room, was from Dean's personal collection, usually hidden on the underside of his four poster canopy for his own, personal, viewing pleasure. It showed a barely clad woman draped across a muggle sports car, her skin painted as slick and shiny as the performance car's paintjob. He had seen these sorts of posters before of course, when cleaning Dudley's bedroom and in a few magazines the muggle-born boys in his year had snuck into Hogwarts and he had joined the rest of the boys in snatching secretive peeks throughout the year. Having it clearly on display in the Head's personal rooms was, Harry gulped, another thing entirely.

On discovering the poster Harry immediately closed his bedroom door and, face flaming, put his wand to good use, trying several variations of an unsticking charm. Unfortunately none of them had the desired result and in the end he had furiously whispered for Wilspy who had appeared with an audible pop and a toothy grin, her eyes alight.

"Harry Potter is surprised?"she squealed loudly, obviously ecstatic at her own ingenuity.

"You could say that yeah..." Harry muttered, his voice drowned in the guitar solo filling the room as he tried desperately to stay calm while imagining familiar footsteps in the distance.

"...Listen Wilspy, I really appreciate you trying to make the room nicer but could you maybe...eh...you see the thing is there's one poster I'd rather _not_ have so I thought maybe you could take it back to the tower? Please?"

Wilspy's eyes grew moist and for a horrible moment Harry thought she was going to burst into tears.

"Such a lovely young wizardling Harry Potter is. Being so polite. I be's happy to take it back for you, you just be telling Wilspy which one"

Despite holding the conversation with an elf, Harry's face still flamed as he pointed the poster out, his hand coming up to scratch his scalp. Wilspy nodded without making a fuss, for which Harry was eternally grateful, and snapped her fingers loud enough to be heard over the music. .

Both Wizard and elf stood looking at the poster for several seconds, Harry's hand frozen in his hair. Another impotent snap of short fingers had Harry looking down at the diminutive elf in panic.

"What's wrong!" Harry inwardly cringed at his desperate tone.

"Does you be using your magic Harry Potter sir?"

Harry blinked, thinking back to the myriad of spells he had thrown at the thing in his panic.

"Umm, yeah. I tried to unstick it myself."

Wilspy was already nodding, a smile of understanding on her face and Harry let his shoulders drop, releasing a puff of breath in relief.

"So you can take it down now right?" Harry clarified.

"Oh no Harry Potter sir, you be's mixing up our magic. But I can be getting Professor Albus to come fix it..."

"_WHAT_? NO! Wait..."

Harry held his hands out, fingers spread as though to stop the bemused house elf in her tracks.

"It's ok. I'll just keep it. I've changed my mind. Really."

Seemingly appeased Wilspy nodded her head and disappeared with a small pop, but Harry was sure he had seen amusement on her little face in the seconds before she disappeared. Working quickly, Harry tore a few random pages from an old Quiddich magazine and using his wand carefully layered them over the provocative picture until nothing could be seen of the shiny woman with the huge b...

"Harry?"

Jumping nearly a foot in the air, Harry spun wildly with his wand in one hand and his ripped magazine in the other, his face the very picture of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Expecting Dumbledore, it took a moment for Harry to realise that the man standing in front of him wasn't the Headmaster but Remus Lupin.

"Remus?"

Remus smirked at Harry's expression and flicked his own wand at the room, the music from the wireless lowering to a background hum.

"Hello Harry" he smiled warmly, his eyes a warm golden brown and lit with amusement.

"_Bloody hell_ Remus you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Harry complained, bringing his hands down as soon as he realised they were still frozen in front of him. He scowled even more as his former DADA Professor chuckled.

"I did knock! It's not my fault you play your music loud enough to be heard in the Headmasters office!"

Harry threw the magazine onto the bed with the rest of his scattered books and finally grinned a little at his Godfathers best friend, a warmth building in his chest as the realisation of his presense became real.

"Really? Dumbledore's office? I hadn't realised it was so loud. Was he complaining?"

Remus stepped further into the room, his eyes appraising his young friend even as they crinkled in amusement.

"You are 15 Harry. Listening to loud music in your room while locked away in a self imposed exile is par for the course. Dumbledore was 15 once too as hard as that may be for any of us to imagine."

Harry scratched his neck, his lips pursing in awkward amusement.

"When did you get here?" he asked.

Remus closed the distance and placed a strong hand over Harry's shoulder, his head dipping a little to meet the boy's eyes.

"Just now. I came straight up, after a quick word with the Headmaster. I'm sorry I left it so long Harry, I should have come as soon as I heard you wer..."

"S'ok Remus. Really, I understand. You had thing..."

"Stop Harry. It's not ok. But I'm here now..."

Harry looked up at Remus and couldn't help as his eyes twitched around the wizard's face, taking in the old scars and premature wrinkles that adorned his skin, the dark brown smudges under each eye and the dishwater fringe wilting across his forehead. It was the wizard's eyes that held his attention though and at the moment they shined with sincerity, regret and affection.

"I'm glad you're here." Harry whispered truthfully, his lips drawing up in a half smile to match the one being levelled at him. A few charged seconds past before both broke into happy, self conscious chuckles, Harry ducking his head for a moment.

"So do you think you could break your rebellious sit-in to take tea with your dad's old pal?"

Harry rolled his eyes, slipping his feet into his trainers and crouching to tuck the laces into the spaces at the sides.

"I'm not that bad Remus. I've just been...I had a bad day yesterday. I'm...regrouping."

Remus looked regretful and saddened as Harry rose to face him again, slipping his wand into the back pocket of his jeans in the process.

"I heard what happened. Professor Dumbledore told me you had a difficult time. I _am_ sorry Harry, you shouldn't have to go through any of this."

Harry shrugged, not sure what was to be achieved from that kind of thinking. He had given up on feeling sorry for himself years ago.

"Yeah well if wishes were kisses I'd be a happy guy" Harry chimed, repeating a quote he had heard on the telly at some point, his lips twitching in forced humour as he tried to change the subject. He really had no desire to go through the horrible experience again.

Remus clapped a hand across his shoulders as he led him from the room, but he slowed slightly at the doorway, his eyes alight with mirth.

"Yes well judging by that poster I saw you cover I'd say kisses aren't that far off..."

Harry felt his whole face pulse as a furious blush raged across his face and neck.

"Very funny Remus" he groused, his eyes drawing daggers at his chuckling companion.

"I thought so.." Remus chuckled, but pulled Harry against his side in an apologetic half hug, glad when the boy's face lifted to show a reluctant smirk.

Dumbledore rose as they decended the metal staircase into the office and Harry smiled a little ruefully as the old wizard caught his eye.

"_Ah_ Harry. You are feeling better I trust?"

Harry had seen the Headmaster after the whole ward collapse yesterday of course. Dumbledore had allowed him a few hours to himself before he had appeared in his bedroom doorway with a tray of food. Harry hadn't had much to say except to ask that he be left alone for awhile and was grateful when the professor had left without any rancour, insisting only that he eat something and get some rest. The only other time he had seen him was when the wizard had woken him from his slump atop the covers and had assisted him under them. That was all a bit hazy though.

"Yes sir. I'm alright."

"No other scar pain? Visions?"

Harry curled a lip in a way that was uncannily like his hated potions master.

"No, nothing. Bastards obviously happy with himself..."

"_Harry_..." Remus chastised though there was no real heat behind it. Harry shrugged it off, not sorry at all.

Dumbledore chose to stay silent but shuffled out from behind his desk, sparing a moment to stroke Fawkes' brilliant red plummage on the way.

"Remus here has graciously agreed to stay the night in the castle Harry to allow Moody to consult with the ministry over this latest incident."

Harry looked from Dumbledore to Remus, his face lifting with an excited smile.

"Really? That's wicked Remus!"

Lupin's eyes twinkled in an amateur version of Dumbeldore's, his hands finding his threadbare pockets as he gazed fondly at his former student.

"Perhaps you would join me for lunch then. We can have a proper catch-up?"

Harry automatically looked across to Dumbledore, but the headmaster was already shaking his head slightly.

"You're not coming?" Harry guessed, pulling the cuffs of his cardigan over his hands.

Fawkes trilled a wobbly note, his eyes blinking open from what looked to be a long sleep. The sight of him spreading his wings in a stretch never failed to impress Harry and he watched, missing the look that passed between both adults, as the magnificent bird hopped from his perch to the sill of the open window and then launched into the open air where he quickly disappeared from sight. Dumbledore had stepped closer to Harry while he had been distracted and Harry almost bumped into him when he turned to continue their conversation.

"I must attend the Ministry with Alastor Harry but I will be back before the peas at dinner are cold, I promise."

Remus huffed at laugh at that but Harry looked unamused as he pulled the zipper on his cardigan up and down in agitated swipes.

"Why can't mad-eye go himself?" He asked, the question coming out a little sharper than he had intended.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows slightly at the question, surprised, but it was not he who answered him. Remus seemed confused by Harry's behaviour and it clearly coloured his tone as he spoke.

"I'm sure whatever business Professor Dumbledore has at the Ministry is important Harry, else he wouldn't leave."

An awkard silence descended wherein no-one spoke and Harry didn't know where to look, now that Fawkes had taken flight. Remus' confusion over Harry's tone had bought all of Harry's insecurities back to the fore and he felt the grip of self-consciousness take him as he again realised how informal his manner with the Headmaster had become.

"Give us a moment would you Remus?"

Harry glanced between both men as they shared a silent stare, his head angled up seeing as how he was more than a head shorter than both, a position that did little to ease his discomfort. He was sorely wishing he hadn't said anything at all now as his questions had quite obviously dampened the previously jovial atmosphere.

"Of course. Harry I'll wait for you in the corridor." Remus said amiably, breaking eye contact having apparently come to some kind of understanding of what was bothering his younger friend.

Harry nodded and watched as his father's friend spun and walked swiftly across the spance of the office, the door opening and closing behind him without prompting.

"What's wrong Harry?"

Dumbledore was perched on the edge of his desk gazing at him with a slight crinkle between his eyes, the heels of his hands balancing him. Harry ran a hand backwards and forwards over his hair, unbenowingly causing it to stick up and out in all directions. Someone meeting him for the first time might have thought he looked quite mad.

"I don't like it. What if it's a trap? Moody said yesterday that Voldemort will want to get his own back for the ambush. And Snape isn't back yet right? So we don't know what happened there. I don't know if you should leave the castle. That's all."

What had started as an impassioned and salient point ended in uncertainty, partly because Dumbeldore was staring at him quite seriously and with his utmost attention. It was slightly disconcerting to be taken so seriously. He also felt the creep of self-consciousness as he realised he was effectively calling Dumbledore's decision into question. Thankfully the awkwardness only lasted a few seconds before the Headmaster straightned and moved towards him, a hand coming up to flatten his hair.

"I can see why you might be worried my boy but I do not believe that Voldemort will attack today..."

"_But how can you be sure_? I'm not trying to say you can't defend yourself or anything because you can. Obviously sir. I just..."

"..._Voldemort_!..." Dumbledore interrupted, raising his voice to be heard over Harry's worried rambling "as powerful as he is, is _not_ brave Harry. He has grown to depend on his followers more than he admits even to himself. With so many key death eaters incapacitated, for whatever reason, he would have no choice but to mount his own attack or indeed, front his own defence. Believe me Harry, he thinks too much of his own worth to put himself at risk my boy, especially in a duel with me."

Harry felt the truth of that statement seep in, cooling his anxiety. He felt rather foolish for fretting so much and smiled self consciously, his fingers pulling his zip up under his chin and leaving it there. There was no need to labour the point and so he nodded his head once in agreement, keen to move onto something else.

"Thanks for letting Remus stay. It'll be good for him I think" he said quietly, thinking of his former Professor's thin frame and haggard features.

Dumbledore nodded slightly, both in acknowledgment and agreement, Harry thought.

"I think that that may be one advantage of his stay here yes."

Harry smirked.

"You're expecting more?"

Dumbledore's moustache twitched as the wizard returned Harry's smirk, and Harry watched the Headmaster as he shuffled back to his chair where his outer robe was draped across the back.

"I would be happy enough with just that of course but I expect Remus will not be the only one who will benefit"

The Headmaster doned his outer cloak and pressed the material flat, his attention seemingly in his last minute preparations before leaving. Harry chose to leave that last statement alone but the short silence between them was not uncomfortable. Dilys Derwent issued an abrupt snort in her sleep, interrupting the quiet. Harry took the Headmasters place, turning to lean his backside against the broad wood of the desk, even if it did mean he had to perch of his tip toes. He looked across the office, his mind briefly replaying the scene from the day before. He cringed slightly as he recalled him melodramatics..._merlin!..._why could nothing ever be simple? He was surprised Dumbledore hadn't written him off as a complete hopeless case before now, or a nutcase at least.

"Can I ask what you'll be doing at the ministry?" He asked, partly to interrupt his own line of thought and also because he was curious. He turned slightly when he heard movement and saw the Headmaster, documents in hand and ready to go, shuffle out from behind the desk.

Harry slipped his hands into his back pockets and shuffled backwards a little to allow the Headmaster room to come out from behind the ornate desk. Dumbledore spared him an appraising glance over his glasses as he rounded the corner, his hands rolling several sheafs of paper into a roll. For a moment Harry was sure the Headmaster was going to tell him to run along but the penetrating stare relaxed into the usual sparkle of good humour and Harry inwardly cheered.

"Alastor and I are meeting with the auror department to debrief the events of yesterday. An enquiry following the tragic deaths of the aurors in the death eater battle will be led by the Wizengamot and I am sitting in session for the preliminary hearing. Dates will also be agreed for the trial of Gregory Goyle Senior."

Harry, for once, was glad he was 15 and too young to sit on any boards or take on any positions of authority. He did not envy his Professors responsibilities at all.

"Oh..." He frowned, not sure what else to say and feeling all the younger for it.

Dumbledore's hand on Harrys shoulder urged him into step with the wizard and they slowly made their way towards the door. The static wash of the Headmasters aura cocooned him at this distance and settled over Harry like an impenetrable security blanket, or at least that was how Harry had come to describe it to himself as he secretly relished the rare feeling of safety.

"These are things you need not concern yourself with my boy. Now I am sure Remus has bored of studying Sir Hardy's suit of armour by now and is anxiously awaiting your company. I will see you at dinner yes?"

Harry paused at the door and looked up at the Headmaster, his face pinching a little as he struggled with something.

"Yeah, ill see you then. Just...be careful ok?"

Dumbledore's face sofened and a gentle smile lit his eyes as he watched Harry scarper from the room without waiting for an answer and run down the moving stairs, the echo of the boy's feet slapping against the stone on the final jump floating up from below.

"I always am Harry. I have much to come back for after all." He whispered to the empty stairwell.

Remus jerked back from his close inspection of the suit of armour he hadn't noticed before now when the rusted metal twitched of its own accord. According to the dusty plaque on the dias, the suit of armour had belonged to a Sir Hamish Hardie of Glasgow, a wizard renowned for his opposition of the English armies which had tried to take possession of his stately home on the outskirts of Scotland's largest city.

"Good for you..." Remus whispered, making sure to keep a wary distance despite his honest praise.

"You want to go for lunch or finish your conversation?"

Remus spun around at the sound of Harrys voice and straightned from his stoop, his strained face smoothing into lines of humour as he stepped towards the closing gargoyle. With a lazy flick of his wand Harry's hood jumped over his head and covered his eyes.

"Cheeky brat. Come, it has been too long since I experienced the delight of Hogwarts fare."

Harry, eyes alight at Lupin's playfulness, flicked his hood back and fell in step with the wizard, his face stretched in a smile.

"Ok now?" Remus queried lightly, obviously referring to his conversation with Dumbledore. Harry simply nodded, feeling an unanticipated twinge of guilt as he wondered if Lupin knew of the Headmaster's changed status. He rushed to change the subject.

"Where have you been staying? I though you had been on some kind of mission for Dumbeldore after...well, when I didn't see you."

The words 'after Sirius died' hung heavily in the air between them as they walked at a leisurely pace towards the kitchens. Harry's smile faltered and fell in the resulting quiet and he pushed the accompanying spike of pain back down to the pit of his stomach at the thought of his godfather. It seemed there was no safe subject after all.

"I was on a mission yes but truthfully Harry...well I needed the time alone to come to terms with everything. I did speak to the Headmaster following the department of mysteries but he was insistent you remained with the Dursleys. He was right, of course, your safety should always be paramount but at the time I was...irrational I suppose, and grieving. I wanted you close by. I was worried about you."

Harry swallowed through stiff glands and concentrated on where he was putting his feet on the staircase they were desending.

"I'm ok Remus. Really. It was rough, right after and having to go back to the Dursleys so soon..."

Harry paused, unsure of how much Remus knew. But he dismissed his worry, he was here to visit him after all so he must know at least a little of what happened.

"...well it didn't help any. I don't know how much the Headmaster told you..."

Remus tickled the pear till it giggled and motioned for Harry to precede him into the unusually quiet school kitchens. Harry looked around in astonishment, never having seen the place so...still before. He wondered for the first time just what all the elves did during the long summer with no kids to feed and clean up after.

Remus made his way to a small table and chair in the corner and Harry followed. Just as he was taking his seat a pop announced the presense of an elf Harry hadn't met before.

"Harry Potter sir. And Professor Lupin! You's be hungry?"

Remus smiled genuinely at the eager elf and nodded.

"Its just Remus now, Skittle. And yes, some of whatever you have lying around will do us nicely thank-you"

Harry looked questioning at his former Professor when the elf smiled shyly and skipped across the stone presumably to prepare them a feast. Remus smiled at Harry's confused amusement.

"Skittle was assigned as my house-elf when I taught here. And as to what you were trying to ask before; Professor Dumbledore has told me what he thought I needed to know and no more. He felt the need to keep some of your confidences and I respect his decision. You need not tell me anything Harry, not if you aren't ready or aren't comfortable. But equally I will listen should you want to. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded but was saved from the awkwardness of the moment by the appearance of several plates of food. He helped himself to some slices of silverside beef, forgoing the bread and opting to tear tiny pieces from his portion with his fingers instead. He watched in both satisfaction and fascination as Remus prepared a layered sandwich that would have made Hagrid proud.

Both ate in silence for a long minute, one absorbed in their plate, the other in their thoughts.

"Where did you go? After?" Harry asked quietly, his eyes continuing to track his fingers as he picked at the food on his plate. There was no need to clarify further as both knew what event Harry was speaking of.

Remus washed his mouthful down with a sip of pumpkin juice and wiped a napkin across his lips, his gaze soft and sad as he studied the young man in front of him.

"Romania. Not my holiday destination of choice granted but handy if you happen to be looking for the largest werewolf pack in the world."

Remus had, in Harry's younger years, developed the habit of attuning his heightened senses to Harry's well-being. It was a habit that had continued since his reunion with Harry a few years back and so the slight increase in his heartbeat, the spasm of sweat glands, the minute release of adrenaline and other hormones were not only noted by Remus but confirmed that the boy was belatedly worried that his friend had been in such a dangerous position.

"You spoke to them!"

Remus huffed a laugh, his eyes shining in a return to good humour.

"I wouldn't exactly call it 'speaking' Harry no. But i did communicate with them and was successful in passing on the headmaster's message."

"They knew who Dumbledore was?" Harry asked in genuine amazement, a little awed with the thought that his new guardian was known not just in Britain, but in countries throughout Europe. Remus chuckled a little and shook his head, as though Harry had said something particularly thick-headed.

"Albus Dumbledore is known, and respected, throughout the magical _world_ Harry. In fact, as I understand it, other magical schools spend a portion of their History of Magic syllabus learning the life and times of your guardian! He would see none of it at Hogwarts of course which is why you and your classmates spend so much time studying the fascinating goblin wars, much to your pleasure i'm sure..." Remus opined, his eyes wrinkling in humour at the look of stunned realisation his young friend was sporting.

"Professor Dumbledore is, without any doubt, the greatest, and most likely, the most powerful light wizard in the world Harry. Surely you know this? He would need no introduction at a meeting of shaman wizards in _outer Mongolia!" _Remus laughed, lifting his sandwich and taking a huge bite_._

Harry knew Dumbledore was famous; indeed he still had his first chocolate frog card which sported the holographic double of the man himself lodged in his potions textbook as a makeshift bookmark. But Harry had assumed that having killed the previous _British_ dark lord, that the wizard's fame was restricted to the British Isles and not, as Remus suggested the entire world. For some reason the thought was not a comforting one. The paradigm shift of suddenly seeing your teacher as a 'person' had been creeping up on Harry for days and indeed, Harry experienced, not for the first time, a double blow of heightened intimidation and lowered confidence as the realisation of just who Albus Dumbledore was became real.

"Speaking of Albus, how are you getting on living here at the castle?"

Shaking off the strange feelings, Harry refocused on his former professor, rubbing the crumbs from his fingers.

"The funny thing is, even with the vampires and Buckbeak and the wards it's still a million times better than Privet Drive." Harry chuckled, though it was obvious to Remus that the humour was added for his sake.

"As I have been led to understand - it would not be hard to achieve." Remus commented softly, his golden eyes shining in both sympathy and underlying anger. As though sensing the werewolf's simmering rage, Harry dismissed the comment altogether, deciding a change of subject would benefit them both. The last thing he wanted was to be sucked into another Harry vs Dursley commentary.

"Well being grounded sucks. I mean I understand it of course, _believe me i understand_, but it would be nice to get out in the fresh air. Maybe get a few laps around the pitch you know? Still, i can't complain. i get to eat whenever i want and i have my own room and my friends can even visit..."

The low growl that rumbled across the space between them was so unexpected and peculiar that it stopped whatever Harry had been planning to say as effectively as a _silencio_. A few heartbeats passed as Harry stared in frozen astonishment at his father's best friend before his face creased in humour and he smiled widely.

"Remus, did you just _growl_?" he scoffed in amazement, his eyes shining in the typical Hogwarts lamplight.

But the humour was not shared as Harry slowly noticed. Remus was busying himself with folding his napkin and wiping the few crumbs that clung stubbornly to his almost threadbare robe but it was obvious that the wizard's face was not reflecting the now fading smile on Harry's. Unsure if perhaps he had offended his friend, Harry shifted awkwardly in his seat and tried to find Remus' eyes beneath his dishwater fringe.

"Remus, did i...?"

"Those things you think yourself lucky to have Harry..."

Harry shrunk back slightly as Remus, obviously having reigned in his temper, locked eyes with him.

"...are not gifts to bestow_. Food? Shelter? Companionship_? They are absolute necessities that you should have taken for granted from the time you were placed with those pitiful excuses for human beings."

Remus' whole being thrummed with repressed anger and it coloured his tone as he spoke with a quiet intensity. Harry had only ever heard it once before when his former professor had taken him to task for wondering around after curfew. Still, it was disconcerting to say the least and Harry could feel his cheeks warm with both embarrassment and irritation.

Skittle chose that moment to skip into sight and, as though sensing the tension between both wizards, slowed and tugged nervously on a droopy ear as she quietly asked if they were finished with their plates. The question seemed to snap Remus from his black mood and he straightened in his seat, a deep breath preceding his acknowledgement that yes, he and Harry were both finished.

There was an uncomfortable silence after the plates had vanished and Skittle had made herself scarce which Lupin was the one to break, his face sporting a somewhat rueful expression.

"I'm sorry Harry, my anger is not with you and i had not intended to spoil our limited time together with rants concerning the Dursleys. Or anything else for that matter. I just..."

"S'ok Remus, i understand. Let's just talk about something else ok?"

The last thing Harry wanted was another drawn out emotional heart to heart that accomplished little and served only to ruin his day. It had been months since he had seen Remus and he had been looking forward to seeing him again, he didn't want the entire visit to be consumed by angst and drama. He'd had enough of that thank you very much. Remus nodded his assent as he stood, a smile finding its way back to his now rosy face.

"Well, here's something to chat about. I stopped by the Burrow last night to pick up a few supplies for Grimmald Place and enjoyed a short but pleasant conversation with Ginny."

Harry immediately blushed, though if asked he would have been unable to explain why. Making his way out to the corridor, he deliberately kept his gaze forward and tried to exude the impression of bored but polite interest.

"Oh?"

Remus, not fooled for a second, grinned in wicked amusement as he walked alongside his young friend.

"Oh yes. It transpired to be a very enjoyable chat in actual fact. She really is a lovely girl."

"Who Gin? Yeah I guess she's ok. I mean i don't _know her_ know her but she's always been, you know, ok. So you're staying at headquarters huh?" Harry stuttered, his contagious blush creeping up his cheekbones.

"_Ok_? Well that's a poor assessment Harry. Especially when she thinks so very highly of you..." Remus teased, his longer legs pacing him a half step ahead of Harry.

They had reached the staircases by this point and Harry was finding it a near impossible task to keep an air of disinterest in the face of Remus' obvious gossip concerning Ginny.

"She said that?" Harry queried, slowing his step and unable to completely eradicate the hopefulness in his voice. The whine of ancient hinges alerted him that the staircase was about to move and he leaped to reach the top step of the staircase Remus was standing on just as the playful thing swung sideways. He would have fallen headfirst had Lupin's hand not steadied him by wrapping a firm hand in the material at his back.

"Thanks..." Harry breathed, looking up at the taller wizard a little sheepishly.

Remus smoothed his young charge's cardigan after disentangling his hand and patted his back fondly.

"Anytime. And in answer to your question; yes Harry, i believe i did hear her say that despite your sometimes pigheaded stubbornness and penchant for throwing yourself into danger, she was '_quite fond of you..._'"

Harry tried but failed to keep the smile from forming on his face as a zing of pure happiness shot through him. He followed in Remus' wake as the man lead the way along another corridor, his thoughts on the red headed girl who lately had been, between nightmares, playing a starring role in some fairly graphic dreams. Deciding thinking on _those_ could lead to a whole new level of embarrassment, Harry jogged a little to catch up with Lupin.

"Where are we going? Do you have something to do?" Harry asked, suddenly worried that the answer would be yes and that his time with Remus would come to an abrupt end.

"You remember the duelling club?" Remus asked in lieu of an answer, his eyes twinkling again in humour.

Harry grinned back, the anticipation clear in his eyes.

"We're going to dual? To practice...?" he asked excitedly, his hand finding the handle of his wand as though to check he had everything he needed.

As Remus was about to answer a thunderous bang echoed on the stone around them as a door a little further up the corridor swung open and smashed against the wall, the metal strips wrapped across the ancient wood buzzing from the harsh treatment. Despite the fact that Harry had his wand aimed first, Remus immediately pushed him roughly to the wall and stood in front of him, his thin form enough to completely block Harry's line of sight to the commotion and possibly danger ahead of them.

Adrenaline was pumping throughout his body thanks to his hyperactive heart and he used it to his advantage as he pushed against the wall and made to move around his protective former professor.

"_Stay behind me Harry_!" Remus angrily growled, his eyes never leaving the corridor ahead of them. Had it been an ordinary occasion Harry may have scampered to follow the harsh command but his fight or flight response was well underway and the truth was he felt just as strongly about protecting Remus as the wizard obviously did about protecting him. It had only been a matter of seconds since the door had all but exploded outwards and just as Harry was wondering what the hell could have caused it, another voice filled the air around the closely huddled wizards.

"_Well, well, well_. If it isn't Lupin and his _pup_..."

Harry's heart stuttered at the distinctive voice and he pushed his way past an unresisting Remus to confirm what he already knew. Snape stood just inside the warped door, his wand held tightly in one fist. Harry's fierce glare was nothing compared to the one being levelled at him and despite his own anger he found himself taking a small step towards the comforting presence of Remus.

"Severus. What the _hell _are you playing at? What if Harry had been further up the corridor? That door could have bloody well _killed_ him!" Remus fumed, outrage clear in his tone.

Harry chose to remain silent but prepared himself as a cruel smirk formed on the normally twisted lips of his most hated professor.

"Then Potter should choose where he walks his dogs more carefully in the future. We certainly would not want further...accidents."

Harry took a step forwards only to be pulled back sharply to Remus' side with a tug on his zipper.

Harry's blood was boiling and he longed to be alone with the bloody bastard currently smirking at him from 20 feet away. But as he glared he noticed that despite his professor's cruel expression, the wizard seemed...off...somehow. His hair was dirtier than normal with ebony clumps framing his paler than usual face. His posture was different too, Harry noted, as the man seemed almost stooped where he stood, slightly swaying if one looked closely enough. Remembering where Snape had just come from, Harry's rage, though not completely dissipating, made room for a glimmer of concern.

It seemed that Remus had also noticed Snape's lethargy as he made to step towards him, stowing his wand inside his robe.

"You're clearly exhausted. Let me help you to your rooms Severus.."

"I well know they're location Lupin, having taught here for more years than i care to count. Which is more than i can say for you." Snape snarled, straightening his frame to stand as he normally did; the image of control, danger and tightly coiled anger. Harry's desire to defend his friend overrode any hesitancy in the face of Snape's posturing as his own face twisted in anger, any previous concern instantly forgotten.

"And whose fault is that? It certainly isn't his..." Harry seethed, his whole body as stiff as a board. That stiffness increased tenfold as Snape suddenly strode forward, his eyes blazing as he made a beeline to where Harry was stood trying desperately to hold his nerve. Harry felt Remus shift beside him but Snape's long strides had him in front of him in almost no time and the pale wizard eclipsed everything else as he leaned over him and whispered with quiet fury. Unlike Dumbledore, whose powerful magic encompassed Harry in a way which left him feeling warm and safe, Snape's rippled out in threatening waves, battering against Harry continuously.

"_If i were you Potter i would use what little brainpower i possessed in the pursuit of knowledge which might one day save my wretched arse and not in trying to backchat me._"

The stench of concentrated alcohol that accompanied Snape's furiously whispered warning was so potent it almost made Harry gag.

"That's enough Severus..." Remus intervened quietly, his brows lowered over his eyes.

Harry breathed quickly and shallowly when Snape eventually leaned away from him, his black eyes shifting from him to Remus. Harry fingered his wand with a trembling hand as both wizards squared off, the tension around them almost palpable.

"What are you even doing here Lupin? Aren't you supposed to be visiting your..._relatives_...in Romania? What happened? Did they conclude that you were as pathetic a werewolf as you are a wizard and send you scurrying home with your tail between your legs?" Snape sneered in his gravelly baritone, a vindictive gleam in his eyes. Remus smiled in apparent amusement and tilted his head as he quietly appraised his onetime school enemy. Harry's arm brushed against Remus' as he shifted just a little closer.

"Grow up Severus. The days are long past when your antagonisms could get a rise from me. Thirty odd hours in the presence of Voldermort entitles you to a foul mood and to the concern and sympathy of those who know you best but you will not find a sparring partner in this corridor nor, i imagine, anywhere else in this school if that is your preferred alternative."

Snape growled in a mock imitation of Remus' earlier version and closed the distance between them until they're noses were almost touching. Harry's eyes twitched between both faces in alarm and wished desperately that someone else were here who was better able to diffuse the situation than he.

"And what would you know of Voldermort Lupin? While you travel cross country, licking your wounds and making half arsed attempts to recruit your mangy half breeds to our cause, i and other members of the order are here, fighting against the darkness that grows ever closer to the frightened brat at your elbow. Even the useless bastard you called your best friend was of more use in the end..."

Lupin moved so quickly that Harry stood dumbfounded for a second, unsure of what had happened. Remus lurched forward, his hands finding the lapels of Snape's robes and had propelled him backwards to slam against the opposite wall before Harry had the good sense to yell "No!". By the time Harry reached Lupin and latched onto an elbow, Snape had found his equilibrium and had his own pale hands wrapped firmly around the collar of the tweed like jacket Remus wore under his travelling robe.

"Remus, _stop_!" Harry demanded, pulling at the arm he had latched onto. A deep snarl, unmistakingly feral and unquestionably canine issued from between Lupin's exposed teeth as he pushed Snape harder against the sharp stones at his back.

"Is this what you wanted you miserable, cold hearted bastard? To have someone punish you for whatever atrocities you carried out this last night? You couldn't tempt a child to retaliate and so went for the jugular with me, _is that it_? If my soul held even a fraction of the darkness yours does i would have happily obliged in your quest for castigation..."

Harry, still pulling frantically, if futilely, at Remus' arm, looked past the enraged wizard to where Snape was pinned. Snape's face was whiter than when he had entered the corridor so dramatically minutes ago but his black, fathomless eyes glistened with both victory and rage. The air around the three of them crackled with energy and Harry knew he had to stop this before it got out of hand.

"...but perhaps Albus would be happy to oblige you?" Remus whispered, his changed tone implying a shared secret. "What do you say Snape? Just like old times? After all we both know it wouldn't be the first time you had been across the Headmasters knee woul..."

Whatever ending Remus had planned for his intentionally cruel remarks was lost as both he and, because he was right behind him, Harry, were suddenly thrown away from Snape by a pulse of concentrated magic to land heavily on the flagstones behind them. Harry's elbow connected with the stone below before the rest of him, sending a white hot spike of pain along his nerves to his fingertips. Ignoring his watery eyes and bitterly complaining nerve endings, Harry immediately found his feet and turned to see what had happened. The first thing he noticed was Remus, his body slumped against the stone wall opposite, eyes closed and completely still. Harry's heart stuttered as he skidded to his knees beside him and placed a shaking hand on his former professor's shoulder. At this distance Harry could see the reassuring rise and fall of Remus' chest and too the steady ooze of blood from a gash on the unconscious wizards scalp. The relief at seeing that Remus was still breathing was consumed by a surge of anger as he stood and swivelled to confront Snape, all sense of self preservation vanishing as the familiar yet still raw feeling of losing Sirius sunk back into the fire in his stomach.

Snape still stood against the wall, exactly where Remus had pinned him and though the man looked whiter than the bloody baron, he seemed unfazed with what had just transpired. If anything that observation added fuel to Harry's simmering rage.

"_What the hell was that_? You could have killed him you bloody great git!" Harry stormed, his face flushed and shimmering with sweat across his top lip and brow. He felt twitchy and breathless as he watched Snape straighten from the wall and lock eyes with him.

"Your precious pet wolf is fine, loathe as I am to use that adjective in any way with Lupin. A simple enervate will suffice to put him back to rights. _You_ however, I have warned already to watch your mouth. Perhaps if you expelled more energy following your elder's instructions than actively disobeying them you, and indeed those around you would have a better chance of survival. It is of course too _late_ for some..." Snape added in mock sympathy, his black eyes alight with dark satisfaction.

Harry had raised his wand to point at Snape's chest almost before he had consciously thought about it and his hand shook in rhythm with his heartbeat as he spoke.

"I swear to god if you mention Sirius again..." he warned quietly.

Harry only had time to widen his eyes in alarm as Snape sprung forward and clamped a hand around his outstretched wrist, using the hold to tug Harry forward and into the considerably taller wizard, his wand clattering to the flagstones at their feet. Struggling against the physically stronger man only served to further infuriate him and Harry found himself forced to balance on the tips of his toes as he was wrenched upwards by Snape's hands folded into his zipper.

"_Let me go_!" Harry fumed, his hands grappling frantically with the material wrapped around the potions professor's clenched fists. This was the second time in two days the man had gotten hold of him and Harry had had just about enough of being manhandled.

"Have you lost what little mind i thought you possessed!" Snape snarled into Harry's red face, a vein standing out angrily against the white pallor of his skin. Harry's eyes were wide with alarm behind his squinty glasses as his most hated professor shook him roughly in time with his words.

"You will learn Mr Potter that raising your wand in anger will almost always provoke a response, whether you intended to use it or not. You have _no idea_ the danger you are in..."

Snape's black eyes looked manic as they bore into Harry's frightened ones, his heavy eyebrows forming an almost pained crease as the man studied him intently, as though struggling with himself.

"No idea at all. But let me assure you that it is enough that you need not prance around looking for more! Perhaps this will make you think twice before you do so again!" Snape seethed, his eyes burning with a new determination.

Harry's perspective of their surroundings twisted as Snape used his grip to flip him to the side. Harry used the momentum to try to twist away from the hands that so easily jostled him about but all he achieved from his squirming and grunting was to secure himself more firmly into the awkward position Snape seemed to be aiming for, tucked under the steel banded arm with his head facing the wall behind him.

The sounds of shuffling feet, panted breath and Harry's exertions and exclamations stopped with the introduction of a resounding slap.

The impact of something hard and unrelenting across Harry's backside was shocking not because of the heat and surprisingly sharp sting it left behind but because of the sheer unexpectedness of it. A deep crimson added to his already red face as he realised Snape's intention and he bucked furiously against the bulk of black visible from his perspective.

"_Stop it_!" Let me go you bloody bastard!" Harry shouted, his mad heaving causing them both to stagger slightly.

"You will learn Potter, even if it kills us both in the process!"

The second slap across his backside was a hundred times worse than the first and Harry unwillingly sucked in a pained breath as fire danced across the spot. Tears of humiliation, anger and pain added to the sweat already dampening his face and Harry wished more than anything that he had used his wand when he had had the chance. He was considering crying out for help when quite suddenly the arm imprisoning him loosened enough for him to drop to the ground.

Straightening once he had scuttled crab like a few paces away, Harry swiped harshly at the new wetness on his cheeks and stared back at the unmoving scene. Remus, looking dangerous and deranged with blood framing half his face stood with his wand pressed firmly into the tender flesh at Snape's jugular, his eyes shimmering with a distinctly non human golden glow. Impatiently straightening his wonky glasses and wiping his grimy hands on his trousers, Harry's attention switched to Snape, who stood as still as the stone surrounding them, his eyes boring a hole into the uneven wall ahead.

"Lower you wand Remus"

Harry's whole body jerked at the new voice behind him. If he hadn't have spun in fright he may have witnessed the last vestige of colour drain completely from his potion professor's complexion but as it was, the sight of Dumbledore some five feet away was his sole focus. The headmaster's intense gaze took in the scene, moving from a clearly enraged Remus to Harry, his white eyebrows drawing down to form an angry line at the evidence of his wards obvious distress. Upset, agitated and with a backside still smarting from its recent introduction to Snape's steel hand, Harry stepped back a few paces until his shoulders met stone, well out of range of the three angry, and one potentially homicidal wizard.

"_I ought to kill you where you stand you miserable bastard_." Remus growled, the unmistakable undertone of his alter self vibrating alarmingly through his normally docile tone. Snape's chin raised itself another inch as Remus flexed a muscle in his wand arm, causing the tip to dig further into the white skin of the potion masters neck, but his eyes met the wolf's across the few inches of space separating them and glimmered with resolve, his dry lips parting to respond.

"**Remus**"

Striving to interject just enough authority into his voice to grab Remus' currently undivided attention, Dumbledore began a slow shuffle forward, effectively cutting off whatever taunt Snape was preparing to deliver.

"Stow your wand. There has been more than enough violence for one day i think."

Harry could see the think bands of muscle which had formed on his friend's neck sink back under his skin as Remus' unnaturally bright golden gaze flickered between the man he held at wand point and the Headmaster, clearly struggling.

"Would you be quite so lenient Albus? Had you witnessed your trusted spy assault the boy you have magically sworn to protect?"

Harry's damp face, which had started to cool in the chill of the corridor following his treatment at Snape's hand, grew pink streaks across his cheekbones at Remus' words. He worked his jaw silently in anger as three sets of eyes shifted to inspect him, his guardian's now steely gaze seemingly studying him for any signs of maltreatment.

"It is perhaps fortunate then that i did not witness it and was not magically forced to intervene. I imagine the results would have been...disturbing for all involved."

Dumbledore radiated an intense power than caused the air around him to shimmer in a way that bizarrely reminded Harry of hot car roofs in the summer. As though aware of how his image was disturbing his ward, Dumbledore seemed to bring himself back under control through sheer force of will.

"He deserved that and more..." Snape started, his deep voice huskier than normal and not entirely convincing.

"Remus, I will not ask again. Please lower your wand. I believe Harry has seen quite enough for one day." Dumbeldore demanded, completely ignoring Snape's attempt at justification. Remus hesitated for only a few seconds longer before he snapped his wand away from Snape with a low growl and spun away, his shoulders visibly shaking. Almost as though the tip of Remus' wand had been the only thing holding him up, Severus faltered on his feet slightly and threw a hand out to steady himself, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down above the high collar of his antiquated robes.

"I would suggest you seek your quarters Severus. And remain there, if you would."

There were a charged few seconds where Harry thought Snape might have challenged his employers command as he had seen him do more times than he could count, his mood almost always swirling to anger in the face of any challenge. But he did not. As Harry watched, forgotten against the wall, the black wizard lowered his head, his lanky hair falling forward to hide his face and rubbed two long fingers across his brow in slow and deep strokes.

"He has lost all patience and done the inevitable. There is much to discuss..."

Harry perked up at this, shifting his weight from against the wall and taking a hesitant step forward – keen to know the latest on his nemesis. Snape's tone carried the weight of a troublesome burden which in itself was extremely concerning, considering it was _Snape_ speaking. He stopped almost immediately though when Dumbledore turned at the movement and with only his eyes, communicated that he should find his way back to the wall. He shuffled back till his backside bumped the cold stone and stayed there.

"I agree Severus. There is _much_ to discuss. I shall meet you in your rooms in due course."

The light tone Dumbledore used didn't fool anyone, least of all Snape who ceased his impromptu massage and looked up to meet Dumbledore's gaze, his own face resigned. Without acknowledging the statement, the potions master pushed away from the wall, paused to whip his cloak away from his boots and strode towards the dungeons at his usual clip, the rush of air causing his filthy robes to snap behind him as though to warn anyone thinking of following.

The sound of the potions master's clipping heels seemed to take a long while to fade in the silence of the castle and Harry shifted away from the damp, cold wall and towards his guardian, whose gaze was still resting, unfocused, in the direction Snape had gone. Rather than disturb his contemplations, Harry maintained a foot of distance between them and silently basked in the wizard's magical shadow.

"Are you ok Harry?"

Harry, who had been unconsciously mirroring his guardian by staring off into the distance, snapped back to the corridor and focussed on Remus' concerned features. He was relieved to find that his friend's warm gaze was back to its usual muted golden brown but his face still sported the evidence of his fall and Harry winced a little as he studied the gash at his hairline.

"Doing better than you i think Remus. You should really get that seen to" he said, signalling the still glistening cut. His own voice sounded croaky and he cleared his throat, the uncomfortably loud cough drawing the attention of the Headmaster. Harry could feel the old wizards stare as he watched Remus take stock of his injuries, prodding the area of skin with delicate jabs.

"Just a scratch really. I daresay I've had worse playing Quiddich Harry." He joked quietly, his eyes leaving Harry to watch Dumbledore sidle closer.

Harry turned and met his guardian's concerned gaze at the touch on his shoulder and soon found his chin cradled and head tilted back as Dumbledore studied his face. Harry blushed faintly at the blatantly parental action, aware that Remus was watching the scene.

"Are you hurt?" Dumbledore queried, his head lowering to better see his young charge's expressive eyes.

Harry squirmed out of the gentle hold on his chin and looked down at where his lace was trailing, dirty, on the floor. If Dumbledore mentioned Snape's specific treatment of him he was pretty sure he'd about turn and flee. He didn't want to talk about it ever again.

"No. I'm alright sir."

He huffed loudly as again his chin was chucked and he was forced to meet the serious gaze of the headmaster once more.

"I'm fine!" he repeated, seeing the doubt in the familiar blue gaze and feeling annoyed by it, rather than comforted. Perhaps aware of Harry's see-sawing emotions, Dumbeldore turned to Remus and withdrew his wand, clearing the drying blood with a flick.

"And you my boy, let's see if we can't set you back to rights hmm?"

Harry smiled slightly for the first time since this whole episode began at the sight of a clearly embarrassed Remus.

"I'm sure i can manage Albus..."

"Nonsense! Now lean towards me. You have grown considerably taller since i last had need to do this." Dumbledore pointed out, his eyes taking on their usual twinkle at Remus' blush. Harry chuckled aloud; drawing opposite looks from both men.

Remus was healed in a matter of seconds and busied himself fixing his robes as Dumbledore turned back to Harry.

"Let us impose on Remus' hospitality Harry. I believe tea and biscuits are the order of the day."

A wide sweep of both arms brought the two younger wizards into step and the trio made their way in the same direction Snape had taken some minutes ago, the mood around them contemplative and sombre.

Next: Dumbledore confronts Snape and gets to the bottom of his behaviour, Remus and Harry catch up and Harry finally gets out of the castle. x


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: No – your eyes doth not deceive you! It really is chapter 14 in all its glory I have complained about the false chapter notifications (apparently I'm not the only one it's happened to) and would like to apologise to all the lovely people who were annoyed/disappointed/livid etc. If anything positive came out of the glitch it was the pressure it put on me to get the _actual_ chapter 14 finished.

I'd like to thank everyone who has stuck with the story despite the gaps in between chapters. You really are a great bunch of people and I honestly appreciate the time you take to review the chapters – I reread them constantly when stuck on a chapter and they help me find my muse. So cheers!

One last thing. I'm not if anyone would be interested in this but i wanted to let everyone know that i have started a Reparo forum in which i post teasers of the upcoming chapter and get help with ideas etc. The link is .net/forum/Reparo/76893/ there so please feel free to stop by and have a look around :)

_Previously..._

_Harry smiled slightly for the first time since this whole episode began at the sight of a clearly embarrassed Remus._

_"I'm sure I can manage Albus..."_

_"Nonsense! Now lean towards me. You have grown considerably taller since I last had need to do this." Dumbledore pointed out, his eyes taking on their usual twinkle at Remus' blush. Harry chuckled aloud; drawing opposite looks from both men._

_Remus was healed in a matter of seconds and busied himself fixing his robes as Dumbledore turned back to Harry._

_"Let us impose on Remus' hospitality Harry. I believe tea and biscuits are the order of the day."_

_A wide sweep of both arms brought the two younger wizards into step and the trio made their way in the same direction Snape had taken some minutes ago, the mood around them contemplative and sombre._

The heavy bottomed whiskey glass that Severus held trembled minutely in the wizards grasp, causing the amber liquid within to ripple and diffuse the sweet sent of Glenfiddich Malt around the room. The sculptured bottle that sat on the occasional table at the man's elbow was half empty and open, within easy reach and towering over the mixed potions bottles sitting in its shadow.

Severus sat rigid in his favourite armchair, his black robes pooled around his wiry frame, waiting. Black eyes absorbing the deepest shadows of the room stared unseeing into the low flames of the open fire, the warmth from which did little to bring any colour to the wizard's deathly pale complexion. If it weren't for the flickering flames within the grate and the occasional tightening in Severus' jaw, one might have thought the room magically frozen or bewitched.

The click of the door as it opened changed several things at once. The sconces in the hallway brought new light into the shadowed room, colouring Severus' lower half in a band of yellow and catching the cut crystal in the glass, causing it to sparkle and twinkle enthusiastically - almost as thought the inanimate object were basking in the rare chance to shine.

Snape's posture changed too. The hand holding the shimmering glass tightened considerably, causing the tendons and muscle that could be seen in his wrist to stand out dramatically against his white skin. Although no accompanying sound was made, it was clear from the rise and fall of the wizard's chest that his breathing had spiked.

As promised, the Headmaster had arrived.

Albus Dumbledore knew Severus Snape. In fact he would go so far as to confidently declare that he was the only person left in the world who did so. And that knowledge, far from creating a divide between them, had endeared the abrasive young man to Albus' heart in a way that he imagined a father might love a wayward son; love mixed equally with frustration, disappointment and hope.

Of course he knew that Severus loved him in a way he had never loved his own father and that love had endured through many confrontations throughout both his formative and latter years. Albus could remember each and every one and more could confidently proclaim to never have lost his temper during any of them. Even the worst, when a young Severus had attempted to hex him in his office and had left with a smarting backside and a threat of expulsion hanging over his head, even then Albus had maintained his calm. Following his harsh treatment at Tobias' hands, Albus had been particularly careful to never make the young or indeed even the older Severus feel threatened or afraid. He had thought to lead by example and install the same principles and patience in the sourly wizard.

Looking at the man now, sitting stiffly and resentfully in his chair, Albus realised he still had a ways to go.

"Get your lecture over with Albus. I still have a report to give and do not want this to take all night."

Severus stood fluidly from his chair and turned towards the headmaster, taking a healthy swig from his glass as he did so. Or tried to at any rate. Half way to his mouth, the glass was ripped violently from his hand and flew through the air to smash explosively against the brick at the back of the fire, the alcohol causing the flames to flare temporarily upwards as they consumed the ready fuel.

Immediately wary, Severus looked across to the headmaster, his previously bored and dismissive air gone as quickly as his alcohol.

"Albus…"

"Perhaps it would be in your own interests not to speak unless spoken to Severus. You are apparently short on time and as I am unusually short on patience this evening it may be for the best."

Albus shuffled further into the room, his hands still clasped serenely behind his back and indicted with a nod of his head that the still silent Severus should retake his seat.

"Your treatment of Harry was completely out of line…"

"He deserved ev…!" Severus started angrily, jumping up from his chair and taking a step towards his mentor, his previous hesitancy forgotten. He did not stay upright for long however. The chair he had sprung from shot forward, caught the back of his knees and sent him backwards to land on the cushions with an 'oomph!, his hair falling into his eyes.

"As I was saying…" Albus continued calmly "…your treatment of Harry was completely out of line Severus. Whilst there is no excuse for your behaviour, I am interested to hear your take on events."

Severus glared up at Dumbledore from his seat, his lips pressed as white as his knuckles where they gripped the arms of the chair. His feelings on his treatment were clear in his tone of voice when he spoke.

"To what end Headmaster? Your opinion on who was right or wrong will not change no matter what reasoning I give, _especially_ when a Potter is involved…."

Albus shook his head, his swaying beard catching the light from the hallway.

"This has nothing to do with Harry and everything to do with you Severus..."

Severus tried to spring to his feet in anger only to find himself magically pushed back before his bottom had left the cushion. Striking twin streaks of pink appeared across the wizard's sharp cheek bones as he glared furiously at the calm visage before him, the air around him darkening and a pulse beating in his jaw like a metronome.

"_This has everything to do with him!"_ he raged, finally breaking through whatever cushion of magic was pinning him with a burst of his own. He stalked away from Dumbledore, his robes whipping around him to stand in front of the magical window, his quaking silhouette framed by the hypnotic sway of the Forbidden Forrest. Apart from the tightly controlled breathing of the younger wizard, silence fell across the room for several long moments, albeit a loaded one.

"What has happened Severus?"

Albus watched the unsteady rise and fall of the younger mans shoulders as he worked to bring himself under control. It was obvious now that something else was feeding into the Potions Masters anger and considering where the wizard had come from; it was not difficult to surmise its source.

"The ambush was the final straw. The only reason I am alive now is because he needs me for one final task, though he has of course \alluded to nothing."

The slow, deep, tightly controlled baritone carried with it the dull and bleak resignation of a man who knows he has no options left.

Albus shuffled further into the room, the fine material of his robe swishing in the resulting quiet. After a beat or two he cleared his throat.

"You are to kill me?"

Severus almost laughed at how casual the question sounded, as though they were discussing the latest potions journal and were clarifying miscellaneous snippets. He turned and locked his gaze with the serious and penetrating eyes of his mentor, his arms folding across his chest.

"No. Not you Albus..." he hedged, not wanting to see the anguished look cross the old man's eyes.

Dumbledore nodded though, as though he had expected the answer - his eyes leaving Severus to look at the flagstones at their feet.

"How long has he given you?"

Severus shifted from against the wall and began to pace the length of the rug at his feet, his robes swirling like a dancer as he pivoted on the spot at each turn. His voice was harsh as he responded, his eyes snapping up to Dumbledore's at each pass.

"It is more complicated than that. His belief that Potter must die by his own hand remains absolute. I am to bring the boy to him at the first opportunity so that he may do so without an audience and any of his usual theatrics. I have until Saturday at the latest. Including today that gives me three days."

"And then?" Albus asked, his eyes tracking the agitated movements of the younger wizard.

Severus stopped mid stride and turned angrily towards Dumbledore, his face contorting and darkening as he stared incredulously at the Headmaster.

"And then the Dark Lord and I will relax with tea and crumpets in Hyde Park Albus…!"

"_Severus_…" Dumbledore interrupted, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"_What do you think will happen old man_? The way his convoluted mind sees it; if I am caught whilst trying to smuggle the boy from the grounds he assumes you will finish the job for him. At worst he has lost a possible in roads to Potter but has at least rid himself of a suspected traitor. If I succeed however he will have achieved both goals – Potter will be dead within seconds and I will be flayed alive before the masses as a warning to the rest. And both achieved from under your nose."

Severus resumed his pacing in earnest, talking more to himself than the only listener in the room.

"Either way I am a dead man. When I fail to kill Potter and not return to the ranks he will torture me to madness through the mark. The only topic that should be discussed is how best I can hurt him before the inevitable happens…"

Severus staggered to a halt when Dumbledore suddenly stepped into his path, bringing both wizards face to face and drawing Severus' attention back to the, now apparently, angry Headmaster.

"Is that what you hoped to achieve earlier? Were you deliberately antagonising Remus in the hopes he would…?"

"…_he's utterly useless in any situation_! If what I wanted was to commit suicide I would rather take a dive from the astronomy tower Albus…" Severus insisted, his conviction weakening as a telling blush coloured his neck and jaw. He made to step back at the dawning realisation in his mentor's eyes but a gnarled hand shot out to wrap in the loose material of his outer robe, halting his retreat.

"_Do not lie to me Severus_." Albus demanded, his eyes flashing behind his half moon spectacles in a way that could still affect the younger wizard.

Gently batting away the hand that loosely held him, Severus flicked a clump of dirty hair from his forehead and obediently maintained his position, his posture slumping in defeat.

"We have always known it would come to this Albus. It is better for all involved that I go quickly and quietly…"

"And you believed leaving your death on Remus' conscious was your best option? And in view of a 15 year old boy?" Albus queried, though it was already clear from his tone what he thought of both it and the whole concept. He watched in mild relief as his former student squirmed slightly, his blush warming again even as he silently worked his jaw.

"No. I was not thinking clearly. I'll admit it was perhaps not the most appropriate course of action..." Snape admitted, but was quick to get back to his point.

"The method notwithstanding the outcome remains the same Albus."

Dumbledore turned towards the still open door and brought a hand up to smooth his moustache, a hum of contemplation Severus' only answer. The thick band of light became animated as the Headmaster moved through it, his heavily brocaded robes causing the shadow he cast to roll like a gentle wave through the light.

A long minute passed, with only the ticking of the antique wall mounted clock and the subdued crackle of the low fire to keep the room from complete silence.

Snape sighed deeply as he looked on impatiently, the quiet almost worse than Dumbledore's show of anger earlier.

"_There is no room here for sentimentality_...!" he finally spat, his temper building again.

"I need time to think..."

"What is there to thin...?"

"_Do not interrupt me Severus!_ As you have already pointed out, time is short and I refuse to listen to your fatalistic reasoning any longer." Dumbledore replied testily, watching as Severus wrestled his anger back under control and bit his tongue, his no doubt caustic reply swallowed uncomfortably. He sometimes forgot just how young Severus was, an easy thing to do when one thought of the burdens the wizard carried – but in moments like this, when spiralling emotions erupted as anger Albus saw stark similarities between both young men in his care.

The Headmaster closed the distance between them again and placed his hands on the younger wizards shoulders, the muscle and tendon underneath as tense as bowstrings. His gusty sigh ruffled the stray hairs around Severus' face.

"I refuse to agree that the only option open to us is your death. We have 72 hours to explore other possibilities and I plan to use each and every one _constructively_...it may behove you to do the same."

For the first time since entering the Potions Master's quarters, Albus saw something other than anger and determination in the younger mans eyes.

"You cannot save everyone Albus. Potter should be your focus, not me."

Many people, mainly the students who cowered in the snarky Potions Masters class, claimed that their professor had no soul and that his eyes were as black and dead as his heart– capable only of withering looks and scowls that were as effective in their ability to bring a class to order as any threat could be.

Looking at the man now, Albus disagreed completely.

"One of the many benefits of being old my boy – a startlingly clear understanding of one's abilities."

Severus scoffed at that and shifted uncomfortably under the Headmasters hands. Dumbledore took the hint and with a final pat, turned towards the door.

"I will be leaving the castle in the next hour with Harry and Lupin. Get a message to Voldemort that we were gone on your arrival and you have no idea where or when we might return. Tell him I left word with those remaining at the school of my plan to take Harry on a short vacation following the attack on Privet Drive but not our destination. While it may make travelling slightly more perilous it will afford us a little more time to consider our next move."

"He will know you will have left a means for staff to contact you…"

Albus nodded in agreement, drawing his wand from a pouch within his voluminous sleeve.

"And I will…."

Pursing his lips in concentration, Dumbledore drew spiky zigzags through the air which had the effect of producing what appeared to be identical hand mirrors, hovering serenely in the air between the two wizards. Another slash of his wand set the rectangular glass spinning, the reflective surface catching the yellow light from the hallway and producing a quite spectacular strobe effect. When the light show finished Severus had to blink the spots of yellow from his view, managing in time to take the offered mirror from Dumbledore's hand.

He looked less than impressed with the finished product and raised a bored eyebrow in question at the clearly smug Headmaster.

"Two-way mirrors Severus. Untraceable, unplottable, unchangeable – truly a marvellous invention…"

Severus looked grudgingly impressed.

"…One I can no credit for I'm afraid. It would appear that the originals were fashioned during the marauders time…"

The Potions Master curled a lip, scowling down at the object as though it were to blame for its existence.

"…but it will serve our purposes nicely. One I will take with me, the other I will leave in my office in case of emergency. You may tell Voldemort of its existence but it cannot leave the school grounds – I have bound it to the school wards my boy so you need not tell any lies. You will also be alerted through the wards if I call for you"

Severus nodded in understanding and placed the mirror back in Dumbledore's outstretched hand.

"Where will you go?" He asked, rearranging his outer robe around his shoulders.

Dumbledore looked over his glasses at the younger man while tucking the mirrors into his pocket.

"Probably best you don't know our exact location my boy." Albus replied, his tone carrying regret.

Severus nodded once, accepting the decision. He looked down to the fire, the remaining embers collapsing into themselves and creating small clouds of glowing dust.

"I will contact you one we are settled. If anything changes in the meantime I want you to contact me immediately, understood?" Dumbledore waited for an impatient nod before patting the subdued Potions Professor once on the shoulder and turning for the door.

He paused at the threshold, turning back to focus on the younger wizard once more.

"One more thing Severus. Harry is my ward and as such any punishment due is for me to decide, not you. If you ever take it upon yourself to again attack Harry the way you did earlier – I will ensure that you receive the same treatment. Do I make myself clear?"

Severus' whispered "yes sir" was delivered after a stunned pause and through pale lips. Albus maintained eye contact for a few beats – the frightening steel grey brightening to the usual azure blue as familiar crinkles of good humour appeared across his weathered face.

"Until later then. I leave the school in your capable hands my boy"

Severus stood looking at the threshold long after the Headmaster left.

...

"Expelliamus!"

Harry dived behind the large and heavy desk that dominated one corner of the DADA classroom, the metal studs on his jeans pocket scraping along the floor as he skidded to a breathless halt.

"Too slow!" Harry shouted; a delighted smile stretched across his damp face.

The mock duel had been going for at least twenty minutes and between the sizzle and bangs of spells and the screech of sliding furniture, the laboured sounds of heavy breathing could be heard from both duellers. Following the incident with Snape earlier, both wizards had walked quietly along the long, sunlit corridors of the castle, saying little but taking the time to come to terms with what had transpired. Harry's face still warmed and temper flared whenever he thought of how the snarky bastard had treated him but he found he couldn't think of it without too remembering Remus' avid defence of him and that, bizarrely, seemed to even things out a little.

Dumbledore had left them at the DADA classroom to go speak to the Potions Master and with forced nonchalance; Moony had suggested they keep to their previously made plans. It was how Harry now found himself pinned behind the teacher's desk with spells whizzing by his head.

The desk at Harry's back suddenly shot away from him – leaving him splayed on the stone floor completely without protection.

"Hey!" He shouted indignantly, scrambling to his feet just as a small ball of water exploded above him. As Harry scampered across the floor towards a bevelled corner, he fired off consecutive stinging hexes in Remus' direction, laughing when a mild curse confirmed a hit.

"You'll pay for that Potter!" Remus mock growled, a tripping hex almost causing Harry to fall flat on his face. Finally managing to reach his target, Harry pressed himself flat against the wall and caught his breath, his wand slick in his sweaty palm.

From his insecure position against the curved wall, Harry spotted a possible diversion and, wetting his dry lips, decided a little backchat might give him the few seconds he needed.

"C'mon Moony, even Seamus could have aimed better than that!" he teased, grinning at the resulting chuckle from his former professor. A streak of light shot past his nose and collided with the cork notice board on the back wall, bleaching the orange an electric blue.

Taking the initiative, Harry bolted from his stationary position and, while running, took aim at a large pile of twine bound papers on the side cupboard. He very nearly whooped with delight as his hex connected and as planned, sent the white papers billowing across the room like confetti, creating a white moving wall between both duellers. The fluttering of paper was loud to begin with, but just as Harry was preparing to take aim through the gaps in the paper cloud, a huge gust of wind suddenly whipped through the room and collected the falling sheets, sending them in a lap around Harry before rippling noisily in one direction.

The wind died almost as soon as the paper was deposited in one messy corner and Harry stood amazed and exposed in the centre of the room, his wand held loosely in his hand.

Both Remus and Dumbledore stood smiling at the other side of the DADA classroom, Albus' wand twirling through his fingers.

Harry's incredulous stare transformed into a frown.

"Two against one!" he complained, walking slowly towards the now laughing wizards.

Dumbledore chuckled good naturedly, his bright blue eyes twinkling madly.

"Oh come now Harry, you wouldn't exclude me from all the fun would you?" he questioned the disgruntled young man, his gaze meeting Remus' briefly to share the humour. Harry made a show of giving the idea some serious thought.

"Well if _you're_ playing we'll need to come up with a list of allowed spells – you know like a million of them and that's hardy fair…"

Remus laughed aloud at that, nodding in mock agreement. Albus' eyes shined with mischief as he nodded his consent.

"And we must be fair above all else my fellow Griffindors hmm? Well I have found that basic spells are often the most effective anyway Harry, allow me to demonstrate…"

Without warning Dumbledore stopped his idle wand twirling and casually sent a silent tickling curse at Harry. Almost immediately Harry doubled over in laughter, his own wand clattering to the floor as his hands wrapped around himself. Eyes tearing, he went to his knees and then to his side as he giggled and laughed, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Hahaha….Stop!...Aaarrgghh…Hahah!..No!...Hahaha…!" He yelped between giggles, now rolling from side to side in an effort to evade the invisible hands.

When the spell was lifted, Harry rolled onto his back, one hand above him and the other laying across his chest and gazed up at the two men who were still chuckling. With his breathing laboured and the occasional giggle still finding its way out, Harry found it impossible to scowl back.

Remus tilted his head slightly as he looked down on his young friend.

"And here endeth the lesson for today I think. Never let your guard down Harry."

Dumbledore's shoulders shook in time with his quiet laughter. Moving around he leaned over Harry's immobile form and smiled.

"Do you remember our conversation a few weeks ago Harry? I mentioned the possibility of a short holiday away from the school?"

Harry looked up at an upside down Dumbledore whose silver beard very nearly touched his forehead. At the question, a hand appeared over his chest and he grasped it, glad of Remus' steady grip as he was pulled to his feet. He experienced a slight head rush as the world righted itself and after finding his equilibrium, turned his bright, excited gaze to the Headmaster.

"Are we going away?" he asked, his excitement obvious.

"Not on a traditional holiday my boy but I thought we might visit with some friends for a few days a….."

Whatever Albus had been about to say was cut off as an exuberant Harry jumped forward and wrapped his arms around his middle, the younger wizards own aura practically buzzing around him. Before the Headmaster had time to return the gesture Harry had jumped back, face flushed and embarrassed but still smiling, his eyes darting between both adults. When they landed on Remus however, some of his excitement dimmed and the bubbling energy that caused his magic to hum died down.

"But…sir, Remus is…." He began, conflict clear in his expression.

"Coming with us Harry. I will have business to conduct while we are away and I need someone I can trust to look after you while I'm gone."

Dumbledore met Remus' eyes above Harry's head and received a pleased nod of acceptance. It was testament to how relieved Harry was that he did not object to the idea of a live in babysitter but instead glowed with a happiness that brought a familiar throb to the Headmasters chest.

"We leave shortly gentlemen. May I suggest we retire to our rooms to pack, plan for say three days, and meet in the entrance hall in an hour?"

Harry had began to back towards the door while Albus had been talking and was now standing in the doorway, his face still spilt by a wide smile.

"Ok, I'll see you later" he confirmed, before darting around the corner.

Both wizards smiled slightly before walking at a more sedate pace towards the door. Remus broke the resulting quiet.

"Has something happened?" he asked, knowing the better question would have been '_what_ has happened?' Dumbledore liked to plan ahead as much as possible, everyone knew that, which was why the sudden announcement of a break away from the school was troubling. Although his earlier confrontation with Snape had been disturbing and, in retrospect, stupid, he didn't believe it was the cause of this surprise trip.

Dumbledore slowed to a halt just at the threshold of the door and turned to Remus, his expression tired and troubled, a direct contrast to what it had been just moments ago with Harry.

"Voldemort has tired of waiting for the opportunity to present itself and has decided to use the resources at his disposal to get to Harry..."

"Severus..." Remus whispered in understanding, his brow furrowed under his wilting fringe.

"Indeed. He has until Saturday to deliver Harry, alive, to Tom. It goes without saying that neither would remain in that condition for long. It seems Voldemort has learned that his penchant for theatrics has cost him more than one opportunity in the past."

Lupin turned his gaze from Dumbledore to gaze at the papers still stacked haphazardly in the corner.

"When Severus fails to bring him what he wants..." he started, his eyes fogged with mixed emotion.

"It is no less than what we expected Remus. He risked much to bring us news of Privet Drive. I am indeed surprised that it hasn't come sooner." Albus watched the younger wizard's emotions flit across his face – guilt, anger, sadness, anxiety. Of all the marauders, Remus had been the most gentle. He had a kind soul and an inherent patience and goodness that in part contributed to his success as a teacher at the school. The adolescent mischief had been there of course, but the younger Lupin had never been the instigator nor inventor of trouble and was, like Harry's Miss Granger, the voice of reason when they're antics became too much. Such displays as was seen in the hallway earlier were therefore extremely rare and as such, Albus knew, were brooded on and regretted for longer than was normal.

"There remain options open to us Remus. Few, to be sure, and certainly none that Severus will like but I do not intend to let my Potions Master go so easily. It is a notoriously difficult position to fill."

Remus smirked at the black humour and gestured for Albus to precede him through the doorway.

"For now we will buy ourselves more time and visit a friend who I believe will be of immeasurable assistance. We leave in just under an hour my boy." Albus lay a heavy hand on the younger mans shoulder and squeezed, the raised edge of a recent patch catching his palm, before turning towards the stairway at a sedate pace. Remus watched his retreating form contemplatively until it disappeared completely from sight.

...

Harry basked in the sunshine steaming in through the open doors of the main entrance, his glasses dangling from one hand as he sat, eyes closed and face tilted to catch the warmth of the summer sun's evening reach. Perched on the small trunk he had been loaned from Wilspy and positioned as close to the entrance as he dared, he listened half heartedly to the muted chatter of the two wizards and one witch who were grouped in the shadows of the entrance hall. Unfortunately Harry's thoughts weren't quite as peaceful as his profile may have indicated.

The earlier confrontation with Snape encroached on any excitement he felt at the planned trip with his guardian and Remus. Also niggling away at the back of his mind was the feeling of being out of the loop on something, a feeling he was unfortunately all too familiar with. He found it a tad strange that Dumbledore hadn't mentioned anything about a trip before now and had difficulty in reconciling the coincidence of the unplanned confrontation with Snape with the tight timeline set by the Headmaster. Both were obviously connected but not in the way Harry was meant to believe. A few swats were not traumatising enough for Dumbledore to immediately arrange a short holiday to aide his recovery. As mortifying as the experience had been, and as furious as he still was with the snarky git, Harry was pretty sure he would survive.

No. Something had _definitely_ happened.

"All set my boy?"

Dumbledore's cheery voice cut into Harry's inner monologue and made him jump so badly he very nearly upset the case supporting his weight. The sun had bleached through Harry's thin eye lids and when he peeled them apart to try to focus on the headmaster, who had latched onto an arm to steady him, all he could see were the red and white blocks of shifting colour burned onto his retinas. Blinking rapidly and taking back his arm to rub the colour from his eyes made his answer somewhat muffled.

"Yeah. I mean I think so sir. I wasn't sure where we were going so I just went with muggle clothes."

"That will be fine Harry. Regrettably we will continue to be restricted to where we can go while away but I do not foresee any situation where muggle attire will be inappropriate."

Harry dropped his hands to his lap and blinked exaggeratedly, sure his rubbing had achieved little more than adding additional colours to his kaleidoscope-like vision. He slipped his glasses back onto his nose and blinked up at the blurry and colourful image of his headmaster.

Albus smiled down fondly at the comical sight.

"Remus has a small errand to run before he joins us Harry so he will meet us at our destination later tonight."

"Where exactly _is_ our destination sir?" Harry asked, standing and turning his back on the warming rays.

"Ahh I'm afraid you will need to wait for just a few more minutes my boy. We will leave from the great hall..." The headmaster signalled for Harry to follow him and grabbing his crammed case, he jogged a little to catch up to the sprightly man.

Professor Lupin finished a fire call just as Harry entered the hall and turned to watch their approach, his eyes focussed on Harry alone. Professor Trelawney had disappeared from sight, no doubt back to her incense clouded tower, Harry mused.

"I will join you later Harry, I just have one or two things to attend to and I'll be free for the remainder of the holiday" Remus smiled, the bright light streaming through the magical ceiling highlighting the silvery traces of obviously old scars across the wizards face and neck.

Although Harry's smile was genuine he couldn't stop the flare of suspicion at his Professor's words. Had Remus known of the trip he wouldn't have had any need to sort out his affairs within the day. He turned from Remus to Dumbledore, a frown pulling the edges of his scar.

"What's going on?"he questioned, his own gaze fixed on the azure blue of the headmasters. His suspicion became annoyance when his guardian shared a knowing look with Remus. Recognising the signs, Dumbledore straightened and caught his wards eyes over the tops of his glasses.

"I am not withholding information Harry. I am merely delaying the conversation until we are safely settled in our new accommodation."

Harry looked away from Dumbledore with a glare but did not say anything to indicate his annoyance. He was aware of both men studying him and shifted on the spot, his scuffed trainer toe working at the edge of a slightly raised flagstone.

"Until later then Remus. If there are any problems use the normal channels to reach someone."

Remus nodded gratefully, his eyes quickly leaving Dumbledore to rest again on the untidy mop of hair, all that could be seen of Harry's head, at his side.

Albus reached into his long pocket and removed what looked to be a small sweetie tin, lemon drops, if Remus was not mistaken and held it in the palm of his left hand while removing his wand with his right. With a sharp rap of the wand the tin rattled quietly on the wrinkled palm and glowed a bright, ethereal blue before becoming still again.

Remus knew the process of creating a portkey was, technically, illegal, as such practices were tightly controlled and monitored by the ever present Ministry, but was confident that even if discovered, those in the Portkey department would pretend otherwise to avoid a possible confrontation with, quite likely, their former Headmaster.

"After 3 then Harry" Dumbledore said gently, aware of the slightly pale hue his ward's cheeks had taken at the prospect of this form of transport.

Harry shifted closer reluctantly, his adams apple bobbing above the collar of his t-shirt. He had assumed they would be flooing to their destination and the sudden change had given him very little time to mentally prepare. His anxious misgivings must have been plastered over his too-expressive face as Dumbledore suddenly reached out and closing a hand around the back of Harry's head, pulled him to lean against the solid and comforting bulk of the man. Harry's face regained some colour at the move but for all his embarrassment he did not retreat.

"Ready?" Albus asked quietly, and at Harry's shaky nod, held the tin once more in front of them. As he counted down aloud for the sake of both Harry and their audience of one, he felt a smaller hand wrap securely in a fold of his robe.

"1...2...3..."

...

When Harry's feet finally slapped back onto solid ground, he was sure he had fallen victim to a severe spliching accident for it felt as though his head was still swirling in the tornado-like wind that was a portkey journey. The warm and, more importantly, _still_ bulk of the headmaster became Harry's lifeline and he hung on with both hands as the spinning he felt very slowly began to ease. A hand across the back of his neck held him securely in place and another rubbed firm and slow circles across his back.

"Take your time Harry" Dumbledore rumbled, the vibration of his gravelly baritone tickling Harry's forehead. The patterned silk of the Headmaster's robes was the first thing Harry saw as he slowly opened his eyes, followed by the slightly curled toes of the wizard's boots, peeking out from beneath the sky blue trim.

"Mmmmm..." Harry complained, as his stomach turned lazily and his mouth filled with excess saliva, a dire warning of still worse things to come. His watering eyes closed again and Harry concentrated on taking deep, controlled breaths in an attempt to stave off the nausea.

He could hear and feel Dumbledore talking above his head but processing the words was not within his reach, so concentrated was he on not barfing over his teacher's robes.

"Here Harry.."

The hand which had been rubbing soothing circles abruptly disappeared and Harry complained with his facial features when he was forced to straighten from his place. A glass vial was placed on his bottom lip and before Harry could complain of the smell, or before his stomach could completely rebel, the vial was tipped and the hand at the back of his neck squeezed, causing his shoulders to hunch and his head to involuntary tilt backwards. The result was a very successful, if somewhat crafty, potion dousing.

All hands left him as he made a revolted face, signalling his swallowing of the concoction and almost immediately the world snapped back into focus and his stomach settled.

"Blood hell..." he muttered, opening his bleary eyes and automatically running a hand through his wild hair.

"Indeed Mr Potter. I think you were destined to fly a broom and a broom alone."

Harry straightened at the new and unexpected voice and turned away from a smiling Dumbledore to settle his surprised gaze on the familiar face

...

"Professor McGonagall!"

...

**Next chapter: Harry is told about Snape, Prof McGonagall plays a strict mother hen, Dumbledore instructs Harry and not everything is right with Remus.**


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Special thanks to those who have stuck with this story and especially those who penned such encouraging reviews and messages...you know who you are. This is a dialogue heavy chapter, more a 'filler' than anything but I hope you still enjoy it. As always your reviews are considered most kind. Special thanks to the talented Fawkes Song for her marvellous beta-ing skills.

Previously:

"_Here Harry.." _

_The hand which had been rubbing soothing circles abruptly disappeared and Harry complained with his facial features when he was forced to straighten from his place. A glass vial was placed on his bottom lip and before Harry could complain of the smell, or before his stomach could completely rebel, the vial was tipped and the hand at the back of his neck squeezed, causing his shoulders to hunch and his head to involuntary tilt backwards. The result was a very successful, if somewhat crafty, potion dousing. _

_All hands left him as he made a revolted face, signalling his swallowing of the concoction and almost immediately the world snapped back into focus and his stomach settled. _

"_Bloody hell..." he muttered, opening his bleary eyes and automatically running a hand through his wild hair._

"_Indeed Mr Potter. I think you were destined to fly a broom and a broom alone."_

_Harry straightened at the new and unexpected voice and turned away from a smiling Dumbledore to settle his surprised gaze on the familiar face._

_..._

"_Professor McGonagall!"_

* * *

"Hello to you too, Harry. You certainly know how to make an entrance," Professor McGonagall stated dryly, coming forward to appraise Harry through her glasses.

"How are you feeling?" she enquired, her lips pursed in consideration as she seemingly inspected him for any signs of illness. A cool hand tapped his cheeks, apparently checking the heat stored there though it was impossible to determine if she was satisfied with what she found as her expression remained in its usual no-nonsense lines. When she stepped back to appraise him in his entirety, Harry blushed awkwardly and almost turned back to Dumbledore, but the slow development of a smile across his Head of House's face stopped him short.

"I do believe you have grown Harry. An inch or two at least," she announced matter-of-factly.

Harry's first instinct was to look down at himself, as though he would see something different than he had that morning but realising the stupidity of it, stopped short and instead rocked back slightly on his heels, his twitchy hands finding his jeans pockets. The prospect of having gained a little height was not an unwelcome one and Harry found his face melting into a slow smile.

"You really think so professor?" he asked, awkwardly excited at the idea.

Dumbledore came back into sight and stood shoulder to shoulder with McGonagall as both made a show of seriously studying him. Harry couldn't help but stand a little straighter at the scrutiny and blinked at both elderly teachers hopefully, relying on their judgement in lieu of a mirror.

"Now that you mention it, Minerva, I think you may be right. Definitely taller _and_ broader across the shoulders I'd say," Dumbledore intoned quite seriously.

This time Harry did look down at himself, missing the amused glance between his teachers.

"Come along Mr Potter, a cup of tea and some lunch will improve your constitution further. Portkeying can be arduous at the best of times but with the weather being as it is it is no wonder you are feeling out of sorts." On looking up, McGonagall was extending a hand towards him as though to herd him under her wing, and still thinking on the possible changes to his appearance, he walked forward and allowed himself to be taken into what appeared to be the sitting room.

Both McGonagall and Dumbledore sidled past when Harry paused at the threshold, not noticing they had lost a third of their trio, and as they disappeared through another doorway, presumably leading to the kitchen, Harry took the chance to take the place in.

The room was similar to Gryffindor tower, with a stone stairway leading off the far end. There were comfortable looking armchairs arranged throughout the room, more than one person would ever need really, but the ones cluttered around the Hogwarts-sized fire showed the most obvious signs of wear, with the muted green velour faded almost to white in the spot one would plant their backside.

The walls were, not surprisingly, done with a green and black tartan paper on one side of the cavernous room with the others showing exposed stonework similar to that of Hogwarts. The tall arched windows were done in stained glass at the highest pane with the mottled glass below showing a slightly distorted view of rolling green fields and a steel grey sky. Like Dumbledore's office there were various knick knacks and strange devices scattered about the furniture, some animated and some not, and mounted above the fireplace was a very impressive and, in Harry's opinion, very cool pair of crossed claymore broadswords, with a shield placed over top, the dented metal inscribed with words and pictures that Harry couldn't make out.

In the far corner stood a full suit of armour, the metal made of gold and not the usual silver seen around the hallways of the school. In front of the far window, its rose wood gleaming in the little light escaping the thick cloud stood a handsome grand piano that reminded Harry of his primary school music room.

The ceiling was almost as high as the great hall though the room itself was certainly smaller, and unlike Hogwarts, there was a mezzanine level halfway up that had several doors leading from it.

Harry almost laughed as he realised he had clearly swapped one castle for another.

The fire in the room crackled happily and even from the doorway Harry could feel the welcoming heat and smell the oaky scent of the burning logs. With the fire, the muted chatter from the kitchen and the distinctly magical feel to the place – Harry felt a little like he did when he arrived at the Burrow.

A tap on his shoulder nearly scared him out his wits, further adding to his Burrow-like opinion except instead of Fred or George it was his guardian who had appeared behind him and Harry felt confident that unlike the twins, the Headmaster had not likely affixed a magical sign to his back.

Dumbledore's smile held an apology and Harry leaned past him, steadying himself with a hand on the doorframe and a foot in the air to see where the man had come from.

"You will find this particular castle to have at least two ways to enter or leave any room my boy. I'm sure Professor McGonagall would be happy to give you a tour later."

A hand on his shoulder pushed Harry back on to two feet and he knuckled his glasses back in place.

"Now, are you quite recovered from our bumpy journey? I'm afraid the adverse weather at this side of the coast is never conducive to a smooth landing, my boy. The potion I gave you should have erased the majority of your discomfort, however..."

Harry began to nod but the wizard's large hand splayed across his head and Harry felt a static tingle run from his head all the way to his toes. Seemingly pleased with what he had done, the hand left his person with a final pat and Harry looked both curious and disgruntled as he raised his eyebrows in question at the Headmaster.

"Forgive me, Harry, but you are not exactly known for being forthright when it comes to your health."

"Gentlemen!"

Harry turned at the call, forgetting for a moment that they were not alone and at a gentle nudge from behind, walked towards the doorway that both Professors had disappeared through a few minutes before. Expecting a kitchen, Harry was a little surprised to find a second sitting room but it was not that which stopped him dead in his tracks. The similarly decorated sitting room was halved by a few steps leading downwards and into what appeared to be a conservatory-like structure whose walls and ceiling were made entirely of glass. Even that wasn't really surprising, having seen (and listened to the Dursley's envious complaining of) a number of similar rooms in Little Whinging.

He was positively sure however that none boasted the view that this one did.

The house was perched, apparently, at the lowest edge of a cliff, and the view from the glass windows showed a turbulent and angry expanse of steel grey sea, the white froth of rushing swells exploding violently against the rising cliff face he could see curving into the distance. It was an awe inspiring sight. The hands which descended on his shoulders snapped his attention back to the room and he coloured a little, shuffling forward to take the seat that Professor McGonagall was indicating.

"In calmer weather there is a path you can walk which leads to a small sandy beach at the foot of the cliff. It is however a precarious hike and only really suitable for experienced hikers..." McGonagall began, seeing Harry's interest.

"...or those who can apparate themselves to safety if the going gets too tough..." Dumbledore interrupted, throwing a warning look at the clearly curious young man on his left.

"Where are we?" he wondered aloud, his gaze riveted by the sheer expanse of the angry sea.

"We're in my family home Mr Potter, about thirty miles west of Wick, which you should know is in the north east of Scotland. The view is of course the North Sea and the cliffs leading to Dunnet Head, the most northerly point of the British Isles..."

Harry turned away from the view to blink at his professor in shock. They were in her family home? He wasn't sure exactly how he felt about that except to know that it was yet another example of how very different he was. Surely no other Hogwarts student had visited their Professor's private homes!

"...Castle McGonagall has existed here for centuries, protected from muggles and weather alike by layers of magic similar to those that protect the school, though obviously not as powerful..."

Harry looked back at the view in wonder, the grey light of the heavy skies reflecting on his glasses. A plate was placed in front of him, snapping his attention back to the table and he noticed for the first time that there was a small but neatly laid spread before them. Triangular sandwiches crammed with various fillings, a small cake stand with fruit scones, rock cakes and French fancies and a large teapot spouting small clouds of steam covered in a knitted cosy which reminded Harry of the hats Dobby sported in abundance.

Wards were all very well and good, Harry thought, but his being there would surely put both the deputy headmistress and her ancestral home in danger. If Voldemort were to somehow discover his presence here he would stop at nothing to wipe away every trace of the McGonagall castle

"Take a sandwich, Harry," McGonagall ordered shortly, her own hands busy pouring the steaming tea into delicate looking teacups. Harry quickly obeyed and soon found himself reaching for another, listening as both teachers exchanged views on the position of the cottage. As he slowly chewed his eyes took in the scene before him and he realised in a moment of detached clarity just how strange it really was. He could never have imagined sitting down for late afternoon tea with both the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress of the premier wizarding school of Britain, passing the time by talking of the changeable patterns of the North Sea and the potential health benefits of the salted air. The uncomfortable reality of what had led him to such a place weighed down on him and effectively squashed his post-portkey hunger.

"Why are we here?" Harry interrupted, drawing the attention of both teachers, though it was clear whom his question was directed at.

Albus shared a look with Minerva and with an absent nod the transfiguration teacher neatly folded her napkin and left the table, taking her teacup with her. Harry shifted on the straight backed chair, a dull feeling of dread forming where his sandwiches had settled.

Dumbledore swallowed a mouthful of luke-warm tea and turned fully to face his young charge, the easy lines of humour adorning his face slowly easing into the all too familiar strain of resignation. Harry bit back any further anxious questions and clasped his hands on the tabletop, his fingers rubbing each other in a classic sign of self-comfort.

"First let me say that no-one has been injured or killed my boy. Though distressing in its own way, the latest news is not as bleak as some we have heard in recent months..."

The Headmaster's hand wrapped around his cool teacup after delivering a warm pat to Harry's fidgeting hands.

"…However, there is a good reason for this unplanned trip other than appreciating the breathtaking views, Harry. Voldemort has tasked Professor Snape with the unenviable task of kidnapping you…"

Harry had been listening intently to the slow and deliberate words of the Headmaster but at the mention of the Potions Master and his nefarious plans, he couldn't stop his predictable, if honest, reaction.

"_**I knew it**_!..." He started, his hand upsetting his teacup as he gestured, the beige stain of cold tea slowly blooming across the pristine white tablecloth.

"No, Harry, in this case you know very little…" Dumbledore interrupted, holding Harry's expressive green eyes with a hard gaze. With a wave of his hand the teacup righted itself and the expanding tea stain evaporated, leaving no sign that it had ever been there. Harry dropped his eyes to the tablecloth under the gaze and began to spin his heavy butter knife in lazy circles.

"…It goes without saying he has no intention to do so. As hard as it may be for you to imagine, Severus does in fact expend time and energy to ensure that you remain alive and well…"

Harry's eyes snapped to the Headmaster, his anger colouring colouring his jaw.

"Then he's got a pretty weird definition of 'well', sir," he added, seeing the disapproval in the older wizard's serious gaze.

"You are referring to the earlier incident? In the hallway?" Dumbledore enquired, his tone softening. It did little to dim the heat of the boy's anger.

"I'm referring to the last 5 years!" Harry replied incredulously, his eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. It was a challenge for him to control his seesawing emotions at the best of times but at the mention of Snape and his consistent abuse - most especially his humiliating display earlier that day - Harry found he could not bite his tongue. Worse still, Harry knew the Headmaster was keenly aware of the man's disposition towards him and yet he still encouraged - and sometimes demanded - that Harry treat him with the respect afforded to other Professors at the school.

"I agree, Harry, that Severus' behaviour has at times been reprehensible and that his treatment of you especially has been callous and unfair. It has not gone unnoticed nor unchallenged these past five years, my boy."

Whatever Harry had expected to hear it certainly wasn't that. Some of his anger dimmed at the honest answer and he slumped back in his chair, his posture heavy. Thoughts flitted across his mind in rapid and disjointed whispers - like why the sour Potions Master was allowed to continue teaching at the school if he was so ruddy terrible, and why Dumbledore hadn't put a complete stop to the constant bullying in class if he had known it was taking place. But almost as soon as the thoughts had formed, answers to his half-formed questions burned them away. Snape, as detestable as he was, had, on more than one occasion, saved Harry's life.

There was no getting away from that.

Harry could still remember the smell of wormwood and sage that had emanated from the robes of the Potions Professor as he had held Harry and his friends behind him at the whomping willow. Fully prepared to sacrifice his own life to protect the lives of his most hated students.

And the time he had worked to counter Quirell's spell at the Quiddich match. Without his help Harry would surely have fallen from his broom.

And then there was his spying to consider. Harry shied away from considering that role too closely - the mix of good and evil achieved and committed was sure to confuse and anger him further and if he were honest, there was only so much credit Harry could force his mind to acknowledge in one day when said recipient was his most hated professor. Snape's actions in class could not be dismissed easily and a fiery anger persisted in his gut at the mere mention of his name but at some level, he did not wish the man dead. There was no denying that his relationship with Snape was one of the most complex he currently had and that was saying something considering the personalities of those around him, both good and bad.

Realising he had been ruminating for longer than was normal, Harry looked up into the calm and knowing face of his guardian. He sighed gustily, one hand coming up to rub away the ache in his eyes. It had been a long day and pushing aside his adolescent rebellious thoughts to the contrary, Harry wished for a bed he could curl up in at that moment.

"What's going to happen?" he asked instead, wishing his tea was still intact and warm.

Dumbledore's eyes acknowledged Harry's calmness and resolution with an affectionate twinkle and in another display of omnipotence, reached for the teapot as he answered.

"Severus has only a few days to carry out his task. By coming here we have possibly bought him yet a few more but it is by no means a long term solution..."

Harry accepted the hot sweet tea with a quiet thanks, his cold hands wrapping around the china cup gingerly.

"But you have a plan, sir?" Harry asked, watching as the Headmaster added a total of 5 sugar cubes to his dainty teacup. At his question Dumbledore glanced up and Harry could see the worry in the depths of the wizard's eyes. After watching the display in the Headmaster's office the day before the sight was not the shock it might have been.

"Plan is perhaps not the best adjective, my boy. I have several ideas, all of which will require time and none of which are guaranteed to succeed."

The pessimistic pronouncement was, to Harry's ears, a surprise. Used as he was to his guardian always knowing what to do, the stark truth was more than a little unsettling. As though sensing he had disturbed his ward, Dumbledore sat a little straighter and smiled, the light infusing his gaze again.

"There is hope my boy, and many others who will work towards an achievable plan. It might indeed prove to be the case that you, Harry, could very well become directly involved in the solution..."

Harry swallowed his scalding tea too quickly and grimaced as the hot liquid burned a fiery path down his oesophagus. When he spoke his voice was rough with the effort.

"Me?" He questioned incredulously, his face registering his shock. "Sir. I don't think I'm the best person to help.."

"Ah, but Harry my boy, there is a chance you may very well be the only one who can..." Dumbledore inserted obliquely, his twinkling eyes following the expressive features of the young man sitting across from him.

Harry gaped a little at that pronouncement, his face unbenowingly twisting to an impression that clearly portrayed his thought that his Professor was quite daft.

With a wide sweep of the Headmaster's arm the table cleared itself of empty plates, half finished tea and the crumbs left over at Harry's side of the table. Dumbledore stood just as Professor McGonagall re-entered the room, her stride as efficient and purposeful as it was whilst she was navigating the corridors of Hogwarts. Her no nonsense gaze flitted from Dumbledore to Harry and back before she spoke.

"Perhaps if you have finished Mr Potter you would like me to show you to your room?" she enquired politely, though Harry couldn't help but notice that her gaze wasn't as friendly when it rested momentarily on the Headmaster. Harry wondered just how much of the conversation she had overheard.

"A splendid idea Minerva. It has been an eventful day and I believe we could all do with a rest before supper."

Harry stood from his chair but made no move towards the Transfiguration Professor.

"Sir, I don't understand..." he began, his thoughts in turmoil following his guardian's words. Dumbledore moved around the table, his heavy robes swirling around him, until he was close enough to lay an arm across Harry's shoulders and with a little pressure, began steering him towards the doorway where Professor McGonagall stood waiting.

"Later, Harry. I have much to do before any of your questions can be answered and I will make greater inroads with my research if I know you are getting some rest."

Harry bristled at the words, his adolescent pride growling in outrage at the notion he was being managed like a five year old.

"I don't need to be bedded down..." he complained, his determined gaze encompassing both teachers.

Dumbledore stopped at the doorway and turned Harry to face him, his hands resting on the surly teenager's bunched up shoulders. His eyes were patient when they met Harry's.

"I'm not tired!"Harry emphasised. If there was research to be done then surely the sensible option would be for Harry to be involved in it!

Dumbledore pursed his lips beneath his moustache, his hands gently squeezing the tense muscle beneath his fingers.

"No?" He queried softly, and Harry felt slightly annoyed when a yawn tickled his sinuses. Ok so maybe he was tired. But only a little...

"You need not sleep my boy. Just rest. Minerva will show you to your room and I'll be up soon to check you have everything you need, hmm? And later we will continue our conversation as though no time has passed at all."

Well Harry could hardly complain about that. It wasn't very often that he was promised information and if all he had to do was explore his new room in the meantime, well, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Professor McGonagall gifted Harry a small smile as he turned towards her before she turned away and Harry was left skipping his first few steps to catch up with her.

"I've put you in the room next to Albus. The bedrooms are connected by an adjoining door so that if you should have need of him you need not traverse the hallways in the middle of the night like a demented ghost."

Harry climbed the stone steps he had seen earlier in his Professor's wake, his interest taken by various portraits and furnishings as he ambled along.

"There is of course a private bathroom attached to your room, and my house elf Wicky will be happy to provide anything you might require."

Harry followed his Professor along a hallway and through a stone doorway into one the largest bedrooms he had ever seen. As his Professor stood to the side to allow him entry, the first thing his eyes found was the expanse of windows directly facing him. As wide as they were tall, the same mottled glass he noted downstairs allowed a slightly skewed view of the ocean beyond in all its angry and turbulent splendour. Ensconced between the wide windows was a chest the likes Harry had only ever seen in pirate movies, its dark and scarred wood broken only by the wide straps of dark dented metal.

A huge bed dominated one half of the room, and instead of the traditional four poster normally seen at Hogwarts, this one was done in a sleigh style with wood as dark and old as the chest beside it. The bedding matched the pale, muted blue of the surrounding walls.

Harry turned back to his Head of House. Professor McGonagall, standing straight backed and with her hands clasped tightly in front of her gave him a very 'Dumbledore' look, her eyes kind as she peered at him over her glasses.

"The potion I prepared for your arrival is bound to make you feel a wee bit lethargic Harry. Professor Dumbledore is also aware of the fact." _Well that explained the performance downstairs_ Harry thought.

"Your case is over there by the wardrobe - I suggest you unpack if you are determined not to rest. If you need anything I'll be downstairs, Mr Potter." His professor's words carried an air of amusement as she cast one final assessing look at the boy before turning again for the door.

Harry watched the solid oak door close softly behind her and sighed. He reached up again to rub his face and noticed as he did so a very slight prickling beneath his chin. Contemplating this sign of impending manhood he toed off his trainers and threw himself on the high bed, his feet dangling in the air at one side. From his awkward landing he could see only one half of a window and even then the only sight to behold was the fast moving steel grey clouds overhead. For a few minutes Harry was content to watch the sky, his body melting into the feather stuffed quilt beneath him. A blue checked blanket covered the end of the bed and using only one foot, he managed to snag it enough to reach down a hand and pull it over his shoulder without disturbing his position.

His thoughts were on the previous conversation with the Headmaster. Just what research was Dumbledore currently undertaking, and how did he, Harry, figure into it? All Harry knew for certain was that if Snape's only chance of surviving hinged on help from Harry Potter - the surly Potions Master might very well opt for a painful and torturous death.

The clicking of the door as it swung open chased those thoughts away and Harry levied himself up with an elbow to see who was entering the bedroom. He wasn't surprised to see his guardian sweep into the room. The fact that he, Harry, was lying on the bed with a blanket tucked around him did bring a slight blush to his otherwise pale face. It wouldn't have mattered had he not just minutes ago proclaimed to be wide awake.

Dumbledore made no mention of Harry's position beneath the blanket but his tone was quiet with satisfaction as he spoke, his voice disappearing for a moment as he paused to pick up Harry's discarded trainers from their abandoned position at the doorway.

"Remus reports he will arrive later tonight, Harry. He is back at Hogwarts currently undertaking a few tasks on my behalf. I'm afraid our hasty departure left quite a few loose ends that Remus has been kind enough to see to in my absence," Dumbledore reported, his back to Harry as he deposited Harry's trainers at the bottom of the wardrobe on the opposite wall.

Harry sat up further, the blanket becoming tangled around his legs in the process.

"Sir, about what we discussed earlier..." Harry began, though he knew that the Headmaster had had no time to begin the research he had mentioned.

"Hmmm?" The Headmaster acknowledged, coming back to perch at the end of the wide bed.

A part of Harry cheered. He had prepared himself for another roundabout dismissal.

"If Snape doesn't present me to Voldemort as expected, he'll be tortured through his mark, won't he?" Harry questioned, though some part of him already knew the answer. Dumbledore turned more fully to face him, his hands moving to dislodge the twisted blanket from under Harry's knee.

"I believe so my boy. It is truly an impressive feat of magic, the dark mark. Used in the most horrible way, of course."

Harry lifted his bum from the mattress at his guardian's gesture and felt the warm blanket slide from under him. He was too distracted by the conversation to take much notice.

"But if that's the case, short of lobbing his arm off there's nothing really anyone can do, is there?" Harry pressed hesitantly, his own feelings turbulent at the thought. The Headmaster stood and motioned for Harry to scoot up to the pile of cushions littering the top half of the bed. Digging his heels into the mattress Harry did just that, his gaze never leaving his guardian as he waited for an answer.

"It is indeed a conundrum my boy. But there are perhaps more options available to our Potions Master other than amputation..."

Harry brought his arms out from under the blanket that Dumbledore draped over the top of him and flipped to his side, one arm twisting to smoosh a fluffy pillow under his head as he formed another question in his mind.

"Do you think you might be able to remove the mark, sir?"

Dumbledore perched once more at the side of the bed and busied himself by tucking the blanket around Harry as he seemed to consider the boy's question.

"The short answer to that would be no, my boy. The dark magic utilised in its creation is not, unfortunately, reversible."

Harry turned that over in his mind for a moment, his forehead creased in concentration. The world beyond became fuzzy as his glasses were slipped from his nose. He raised a fist to rub away the sting in his eyes. His voice was muffled behind his raised arm when he spoke.

"But then what else is there to do?" He asked eventually, his arm dropping heavily to the bed. His guardian's face weaved in and out of focus above him as Harry blinked slowly. He wasn't sure now why he had insisted he was wide awake earlier. Tiredness rolled through him in waves and his ability to concentrate was seeping away with the tide.

A wrinkled but soft hand pushed his fringe back from his eyes and Harry felt his eyes shut. It was a struggle to open them again though he did eventually manage.

"We shall discuss it later, Harry. After your visit with Morpheus, Irene and Cratus."

Harry's puzzled frown melted into smooth lines as he gave up fighting against his body's wishes and closed his eyes with a soft sigh. The last thing he heard and felt was the whispered Latin of a protection spell and the wash of powerful magic before the world melted into black.

* * *

Harry was sitting with his back to a door, his heart thundering in his ears as he strained to hear the distant crash of doors being splintered by powerful spells. He knew they had only minutes before the Dark Lord reached them. Looking across the small room his eyes fell on his Professor, crouched in a similar fashion as he, his normally sallow skin tainted pink across his cheekbones from their recent sprint.

"There's no other way out! One of us has to draw his fire or we'll both die! You're the only one who can apparate outside the wards! _You can get help!"_ Harry insisted angrily, as though he had already pleaded his point several times though he had no recollection of doing so.

"_There is no time to argue, Potter..."_

An almighty crash too close for comfort filtered in through the cracks in the doorway as though to emphasize the harshly spoken words. Harry shifted his stance, his wand slipping in his sweaty palm.

"You must run. As fast as you can until you see daylight. Albus will be waiting beyond the wards and will protect you..."

_No no no_! _This was happening too fast!_ Harry thought furiously, his adrenaline soaked mind struggling to think clearly.

Another explosion rocked the floor beneath their feet. A strangled cry of pure rage followed the sound.

"**Potter!** _Concentrate._ Do you understand? You will have but a minute to make good your escape! We have run out of time. On the count of three..."

The acrid smell of smoke and powerful magic drifted around them as time slowed.

_"One..."_

Harry's wide eyes sought the obsidian ones boring into his. This was wrong. There was something he was forgetting. _Think think think!_ He muttered intensely. Another explosion smashed the glass pane of the door, the shimmering glass shards falling like confetti around them.

_"Two..."_

Harry met Snape's eyes once more and time slowed still further. The glass and plaster raining down on them slowed to the pace of a gentle snow flurry, the specks and dust shimmering between the two wizards gazing intently into one another's eyes. Harry's heart galloped in his chest, his eyes burned with the smoke and grit in the air and his hands shook so much he doubted he would be able to hold his wand steady enough to fire off a tickling hex. And yet still he stared, his entire being focussed on the man about to give his life for his. He was missing something, something important and yet his mind refused to offer any answer.

_"Three..."_

He had run out of time. He gasped as Snape lurched forward and grasped his collar, his momentum enough to drag Harry up and forward until he was once more standing before the ruined door.

**"Go Harry. Run!"**

As Harry was propelled forward through the door he automatically looked to his left, towards the direction of the noise and smoke. A disembodied slitted pair of scarlet eyes widened slightly as they caught sight of him and Harry watched in the fraction of a second he could spare as Voldemort materialised through the smoke, his wand held loosely in one skeletal hand.

_"Potter..."_ Harry heard, the hiss seemingly coming at him from the ceiling and the floor. Solid black blocked his view as Snape strode forward and pushed Harry harshly in the opposite direction, turning immediately to face his onetime master. Harry stumbled a few steps from the push and began backing away, fully intending to run as he'd been instructed. But his final glance back stopped him dead and the clarity he so desperately sought just moments before snapped into place at the sight before him.

Snape, scrambling to retrieve his wand with the one arm he was left with.

Harry lifted his own wand as he charged back the way he had come to help his failing Professor. His brother in arms. But it was too late.

A streak of red static light illuminated the entire hallway in the instant it was cast, highlighting for a moment the cruel and smirking face of Voldemort as he slashed his wand downwards. There was a moment of complete silence before a horrible gurgling sound began to fill the air around Harry. Snape staggered backwards, turning as he did so to find the boy he had sworn to protect. Harry's panicked eyes widened in horror as the evidence of Voldemort's cruelty became visible. Gouges as deep as bone littered every part of skin visible on Snape's body. A pool of glistening dark blood formed beneath the stricken Professor's feet as he slid forward, his one remaining eye wide and panicked as he gazed in equal horror at Harry.

_"Run...!"_ he choked, before his body failed him and he fell to his knees, the crunch of splintering bones loud in the enclosed space.

Harry only had time to whisper the name of his fallen professor before the sickly green light of the killing curse slammed into his chest.

* * *

**"NO!"**

Harry's shout upon awakening from his nightmare was accompanied by a wave of accidental magic as his body fought off the imagined threat to his life. The window nearest the bed cracked clean through in a star shaped pattern at the same time the glass fitted chandelier above his bed shattered into a thousand tiny cubes of glittering edges, the sharp corners of some tickling Harry's cheeks as they sprinkled around him.

The thunder of numerous feet against the floor outside his room did little to assist Harry in his attempts to figure out what was real and what wasn't. The door to his room flew open to reveal Professor Dumbledore, his wand held before him and eyes blazing. Harry held his hands out in front of him as though to stave off an attack and he watched his eyes still wide and horrified as his guardian immediately lowered his wand, Professor McGonagall coming in behind him.

"_Harry..."_ Dumbledore stated with relief, his eyes taking in the scene before him.

"What on earth...?" Professor McGonagall muttered as she made her way further towards the bed, her Scottish brogue thicker than normal.

Harry looked from one to the other, his breathing still fast and shallow. The horror of the dream was fading a little as reality settled in but the memory of it played in a slideshow of scenes as he worked to control his breathing.

"Stay still, my boy," Harry heard Dumbledore instruct, and this time, when the headmaster raised his wand he didn't blink an eye. With a muttered spell the glass covering the bedding, floor and Harry's hair reversed their journey, the thick and ancient glass of the window resealed itself and the covers on Harry's bed smoothed themselves from the tangle Harry had made of them. Dumbledore immediately rested his weight at the edge of the bed beside his ward and folded a hand around the back of Harry's neck.

"You are safe Harry." Dumbledore soothed, exerting a little pressure to bring Harry's forehead to rest lightly against his shoulder. The warm and dry hand at his neck rhythmically squeezed and another rubbed slow and deliberate circles across his back. Harry breathed in the scent of lemon and sandalwood, his heartbeat finding its way back to something approaching normal.

"_It was horrible_..." Harry thought aloud, the shaking in his limbs slowing to occasional tremors. Pulling back from his position against the Headmaster, Harry avoided the eyes in the room by raising both hands to his face, scrubbing away the effects of both sleep and the nightmare. He was becoming more aware and with it came the thought of how very child-like the current scene was.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Harry heard Dumbledore say, the voice gentle and soft. Harry started slightly when the bed dipped at the other side and dropping his hands he saw that Professor McGonagall was perched much the same as the headmaster at the opposite end of the bed, her normally severe face etched in lines of concern. He turned back to Dumbeldore when a cold glass nudged his arm and he scooped the glass of water from his guardian with a quiet word of thanks before quaffing the entire glassful. The icy water felt wonderful going down.

"It was just a nightmare. Not a vision or anything," Harry explained, feeling rather foolish for having caused such a scene. He was only glad his magic hadn't acted without his knowledge at the Dursleys during some nightmare filled nights. Merlin only knew what his Uncle's reaction would have been had furniture and windows started exploding in the dead of night.

Harry heard Dumbledore sigh and risked a look upwards. Perhaps the wizard was as tired of Harry's constant drama as Harry himself was? The look he found when he eventually met the Headmaster's gaze did not lend itself to that opinion however.

"You need not suffer a vision for those around you to care about your welfare, my boy."

Harry considered the gravelly intoned words and felt some of his anxiety leave him. Dumbeldore had indeed been there during some recent sleepless nights and had offered the kind of comfort Harry had always craved. He offered a small grateful smile.

"I know," he replied, and really he was starting, unbelievably, to realise it himself.

"I'm sorry about the room..." Harry apologised to his Head of House, who so far had been seemingly happy to allow Dumbledore to do the talking. Professor McGonagall stood once more and took a moment to straighten her robe and pat the tight bun at the back of her head. Harry got the impression she was slightly disturbed by the nightmare and its effects on him.

"Well it was hardly intentional, Mr Potter. Accidental magic is named so for a reason after all. I doubt very much there is much damage you could unconsciously inflict that can't be set to rights afterwards, as your guardian just demonstrated."

_Guardian. Huh._ Well that answered one of Harry's questions.

Dumbledore stood from the bed and surveyed Harry through the half moon shaped glasses perched at the end of his crooked nose.

"The offer to listen to your tale still stands Harry. If you want to talk about it...?"

Harry, more aware than he had been just moments ago had the sudden realisation that talking about the content of his nightmare might be enough to dissuade the Headmaster from involving Harry in any plans he was working on.

"Umm, that's ok Professor. I can hardly remember much of it now anyway." Harry fibbed, avoiding the knowing gaze of his guardian as he stood from the warm bed.

He was straightening his clothes when a tut from his right stopped him. Both wizards turned towards Professor McGonagall sporting similar looks of enquiry.

"I think not, Mr Potter. You have been sleeping in those clothes for several hours!"

Harry blinked back, only now noticing the darkness beyond the repaired windows.

"How long was I asleep?" He asked alarmed, sure as he was when he had awoken that he had not long closed his eyes.

It was Dumbledore who answered, the wizard's face showing a touch of amusement.

"Oh about three hours, give or take my boy. An impressive feat for someone who was previously wide awake don't you think?"

Harry's disgruntled frown at the Headmaster's sarcasm did little to erase the twinkle in the wizard's eyes.

"Stop teasing him Albus. Harry, you will find that Wicky unpacked your trunk while you were asleep. Although pyjamas might be more appropriate at this time of day."

_Well that wasn't going to happen,_ Harry thought. More sleep was the furthest thing from Harry's mind.

"I'll just get changed..." he muttered, sidling past his guardian to step on socked feet towards the wardrobe.

"We'll leave you to it then," Dumbledore commented, falling into step behind his colleague who had already left the room. Harry's thoughts flitted from his discomfort to what he may have missed while asleep.

"Professor!" He called at the Headmaster's retreating back. Dumbledore turned at the call and raised his eyebrows in question.

"Has Remus arrived yet?" Harry enquired, unable to mask the hope in his voice.

"He's expected momentarily my boy." Dumbledore answered, before the man disappeared beyond the threshold.

Harry redoubled his efforts to find clean clothes and eventually settled on a pair of pyjama bottoms and a faded t-shirt, hopping on one foot for a moment as he stripped and wrestled them on. That done he made a brief visit to the loo before walking swiftly in his teacher's direction.

* * *

By the time Harry reached the living room he was feeling much more himself. Echoes of the nightmare lingered however, evidenced by his rushing down the darkened hallways of the foreign castle, and his jumbled feelings towards Snape had, if possible, become further tangled. He slowed his pace to a casual walk as he descended the stairs.

The fire burning brightly in the grate cast its amber glow over what appeared to Harry as a very domestic scene. Dumbledore sat in the armchair facing Harry, his crossed legs supporting the rather heavy thick book his nose was almost buried in. Professor McGonagall sat opposite, the high wing backed chair blocking most of Harry's line of sight though as he drew closer the sound of a quill scratching against parchment gave a clue as to her activities. The soft notes of some kind of chamber music drifted from a darkened corner. Dumbledore glanced up as Harry made his way to the fire.

"How are you my boy?" he asked solicitously.

Harry turned to warm his back on the heat from the flames and noticed as he did so that his Head of House had paused in her writing at Dumbledore's question. He rubbed his hands over his pyjama clad bottom as he answered.

"I'm fine, sir. Really," he insisted, though truth be told he was slightly wary of falling asleep again and was glad to be in company of both adults. Dumbledore gave him one of his penetrating looks, the kind that made Harry recall every fib and infraction he had committed at the school with a guilty nervousness. Professor McGonagall interrupted the slightly charged moment by calling on Wicky.

A tiny, tartan-clad house elf appeared in front of her with an echoing crack. With short tufted ears, large earnest eyes and a tartan shawl around her shoulders, Harry believed she was the most human-looking elf he had ever seen. The diminutive elf blinked up at his Head of House patiently.

"Mr Potter missed supper Wicky, perhaps you would be good enough to prepare a late night snack for our young guest?"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, the last thing on his mind being food, but a rather imperial look from his guardian held his tongue. Oh right. The agreement.

It was a mute point anyway. Wicky had already disappeared to do her mistresses' bidding. As Harry made his way to the chair beside the Headmaster a distinctive crack of apparition, different from the one just moments ago, filtered in from outside.

Dumbledore was immediately on his feet, the book discarded to one side and Harry noticed as the wizard started forward that his wand was held tightly in one hand. Harry turned his gaze sharply when a hand descended on his shoulder. Professor McGonagall stood at his side, her free hand also fingering her wand.

Had the moment stretched any longer Harry may have had the chance to feel the beginnings of dread pool in his stomach - but as it was only a few seconds later his guardian re-entered the main room from the entrance hall with Remus at his side.

Harry felt his face stretch into a smile at the sight. The hand anchoring him slipped away with a friendly pat and Harry walked forward to meet his friend.

"What took you so long?" He enquired cheekily, his humour fully restored at seeing his former Professor. Remus huffed a laugh and after a sidelong glance to the Headmaster, stepped towards Harry and rapped him smartly over the head with his wand.

"Mind your manners. Is that any way to speak to your elder?" Remus reprimanded, though his eyes were clearly alight with mischief.

Harry rubbed his head and smirked back at his father's friend.

"You didn't answer my question you know..." he reminded him, glancing back when the pop of Wicky reappearing interrupted. A tray hovered above the seat he had been about to take. A push from behind warranted a mock glare.

"And nor will I. Until you at least eat your supper," Remus bargained, following a clearly amused Dumbeldore to the cluster of seats.

Harry joined the trail of wizards as they made their way to the fire, slipping awkwardly around the tray as he finally took his seat. The tray contained a bowl of some kind of chicken casserole, a crusty buttered roll and a tall glass of milk. Harry discovered that the dish tasted much better than it looked as he tucked in, his appetite returned. There was a general hum of friendly conversation as Remus explained several boring pieces of correspondence Dumbledore had apparently received from the Ministry in his absence. Certainly nothing to hold Harry's attention as he finished off the last of his supper. After a short silence, the Headmaster spoke again.

"There were no problems I trust?" Dumbledore enquired, his tone somehow more pointed. Professor McGonagall had risen and was holding a quiet conversation with Wicky at the foot of the stairs.

Remus smoothed his hands over his customary tweed jacket as he sighed.

"No, none..." Harry glanced up from his bowl at the hesitation. Remus glanced at him briefly, as though weighing his next words.

"Although I am concerned about Severus' state of mind. He has become...determined."

Harry realised he had paused with his fork half way to his mouth and so dropped it back to the bowl again. _Determined to do what exactly?_ He wondered. Dumbledore rubbed a hand down the length of his beard as he contemplated the flames licking the stonework around the grate.

"It may very well work in his favour my boy." the Headmaster said mysteriously, and Harry was glad to note that his face was not the only one showing confusion.

"You have found a solution then?" Remus concluded, leaning forward in his chair. Professor McGonagall chose that moment to return to the fold, her wand conjuring a small rectangular table between the chairs as she passed. A moment later several platters popped into existence as well as the teapot Harry had seen earlier. Remus thanked his old teacher with a nod as he helped himself to a sandwich and accepted the steaming cup of tea being held out to him.

"What I have is an idea Remus. It remains to be seen whether it proves itself a solution in the end." Dumbledore corrected, accepting the chinking china from, Harry noticed, a slightly peeved looking McGonagall. His assumption was proved correct at her next words.

"You're jumping the gun as usual, Albus. The idea is absurd at best and dangerous at worst! As I have already pointed out several dozen times this afternoon."

"Indeed you have Minerva and I have listened. Which is why the notion remains an idea and not, as Remus assumes, a definite plan." Dumbledore mollified. Harry watched the interaction avidly, his curiosity burning. He remained still and quiet however, trying to blend into the furniture behind him.

"There is time still for another solution to present itself. We shall convene a meeting tomorrow at Headquarters and decide on the best way forward," Dumbledore continued authoritatively, his gaze shifting from his clearly disgruntled deputy to Harry, a glimmer of returning amusement chasing the shadows from his eyes.

Harry felt a little as though he had been eavesdropping - though of course the notion was ridiculous seeing as how all the adults in the room knew he was there, despite his chameleon-like efforts.

"Finished, Harry? Come then, let's retire to the parlour for a moment."

Harry pushed his tray forward to stand and blinked as it disappeared from his hands. Remus gave him a knowing wink but his attention returned to the Transfiguration Mistress who had, at Dumbledore's last words, turned to speak to him in low serious tones.

Harry skipped a little to catch up with his guardian who was walking serenely in the direction of the room Harry had taken tea in earlier. The glass of the conservatory showed an expanse of blackness interrupted only by the blinking lights of distant ships on the horizon. As Harry approached he could see rain lashing against the glass, rivulets of water - like veins on a leaf - splitting the vast panes into mismatched sections.

"_'They sicken of the calm, those who know the storm,'_" Dumbledore quietly recited at Harry's side, his gaze, like Harry's, on the flickering lights in the distance.

Harry raised a hand to trace a line of water on the glass as he contemplated those words.

"I think I'd rather have the calm, sir," he decided, flicking his eyes upwards in time to see a soft smile form. Dumbeldore's gaze was knowing when he looked down at him.

"I know what you mean, Harry," he agreed with an answering twinkle.

"I imagine your insatiable curiosity is at an all time high my boy. You did well not to bombard us with questions a moment ago," the headmaster complimented.

Harry blushed faintly at the praise, wrapping the feeling it produced around him like a blanket.

"What is the idea you have, sir? Can you tell me?" Harry ventured, holding his breath in anticipation.

Turning away from the inky darkness, Dumbledore walked the short distance to the wicker weaved sofa facing the windows. He seemed to be considering Harry's request as he settled himself.

"As much as it pains me to disappoint you, my boy, I'm afraid in this I must do just that."

Harry wrestled his disappointment back down into the pit of his stomach and sighed quietly. He covered the distance to the sofa and sank into the space beside his guardian, aware of the subtle resentment emanating from him but unable to fully quell it.

"Whatever decision is eventually made my boy, I have the feeling that you will be asked to contribute some assistance. If that is indeed the case, and fortunately or no my intuitions are often correct, then you must prepare yourself for what that means."

Harry looked from the windows to the Headmaster, his confusion apparent.

"I don't understand, sir. How can I prepare when I don't know what it is I'll be doing?"

"You misunderstand, my boy. It is not what you may or may not _do_ that I'm referring to, but rather what it _means_ to do so."

If anything that only confused Harry more.

"Well it'll mean saving Snape's life. Won't it?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore gifted him with another penetrating stare.

"Severus will be in your debt. A life-debt, Harry. For a wizard like Severus the idea of being beholden to anyone is almost a fate worse than the one he is currently facing. It will change the dynamics of your relationship fundamentally."

Harry considered that. The nightmare again played out in his mind, the image of Snape, disfigured and desperate was not any less disturbing than it had been earlier.

"Professor Snape has saved my life too. More than once, sir." He reminded the Headmaster, his voice quiet in the still room. Professor Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Yes, he has. But it is not the same. As a child you are under no obligation, magical or otherwise, to return the favour. It is within the realms of natural magic, and morals, for an adult to do all in their power to protect the young among us."

Harry's quizzical frown deepened.

"So Snape would owe me? That's what you mean?" Harry clarified, uncomfortable at the notion. It was one thing to assist in keeping the wizard alive, it was after all - to Harry's mind - partly his fault he was in the position at all. Voldemort's fight was with Harry, not Snape. He was just caught in the middle like so many others before him, Harry reasoned.

"Essentially, yes. As a fully grown wizard, your actions would create a magical impetus that he would be unable to ignore."

A gusty sigh left Harry as he sank back into the cushions behind him. He had thought to do whatever he could to ensure Snape continued living but, if Dumbledore was to be believed, it was actually a lot more complicated than that.

"You said it would _'change our relationship fundamentally'_..." Dumbledore nodded again, seemingly happy to give Harry the time he needed to get his head around the concept.

"What does that mean exactly, sir? He's not going to start being nice to me is he? Cause that would be too weird even for me..."

Dumbledore chuckled then, one hand patting Harry fondly on the knee.

"I doubt even the strongest magical impetus could completely change a person's true personality Harry. Day-to-day your relationship would probably change very little. Severus will not, however, be able to inflict any harm upon you until the magic is satisfied he has returned the life debt owed to you. His actions this morning towards you, as an example, would be impossible to repeat."

Harry glanced down to his hands, the familiar surge of anger diminishing his newly cemented wish to help. _Things were never straight forward_, he thought a little bitterly.

_Harm though?_ Harry wondered if verbal assaults came under that heading - he could certainly live with that.

"Well if our past is anything to go by he might get out of the debt sooner rather than later." Harry tried to joke, though the Headmaster's smile became a little more strained.

"Let us hope not, Harry." he intoned, diminishing the humour Harry had been striving for.

"Yeah..." he muttered to his knees. A firm pressure under his chin brought his eyes back up.

"I am very proud of you, Harry. You know this I trust?" Dumbledore asked quietly, his gaze warm.

Harry felt his face flush at the praise and looked back towards the dark windows, embarrassed.

"Um, yes sir. I know." he answered awkwardly. He fished for something to change the subject.

"Can I come to the Order meeting tomorrow?" He asked hopefully.

"No. Not this time Harry. The meeting will be purely for the purpose of exploring solutions to this latest development. I'd rather you remained here for the duration."

Harry, embarrassment forgotten, argued the logic of that decision.

"But if I'm to play a part in this..." he started, only to be cut off as the Headmaster stood fluidly and turned to look down at him.

"And as soon as we know what part that may be you shall be included Harry. Until then my boy I'd rather, as I have said, you remained here."

"But...!"

"_Harry..."_ Dumbledore shook his head gently, signalling an end to the conversation. Harry settled for pressing his lips together in agitation.

A slightly strained silence fell. The soft strains of music from the other room filtered through the doorway.

Dumbledore's sigh was loud in the resulting quiet.

"I told you all of this so that if indeed you find yourself in such a position you will be as informed and prepared as is possible in such circumstances Harry. I do not however wish to thrust upon you the responsibility of_ finding_ such a solution. Which is exactly what I would be doing if I invited you to attend the upcoming meeting. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. He hadn't thought about it like that. His guardian was trying to look after him and here he was, acting like a sulky child.

"Sorry," he said as he too stood, trying to reign in some of his conspicuously absent maturity. A soft smile acknowledged the apology.

"It is late. You should try to get some sleep, my boy. Tomorrow will be here before we know it."

Harry would have argued that he had not long awoken but decided to bite his tongue. He was trying to be mature after all.

"Yes sir. I'll just go say goodnight," he said instead, turning for the doorway. A hand at his arm halted his progress and he turned back to the Headmaster in question. Dumbledore fished a small familiar bottle from one of his voluminous pockets and held it out for Harry to take.

"I think perhaps you may have need of this tonight. I imagine one nightmare in a day is one too many, hmm?"

Harry accepted the small bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion with a grateful smile. Well he was no longer worried about lying awake for hours, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling trying to figure things out.

"Thanks, sir," He responded gratefully, before turning and, with much on his mind, walked towards the quiet voices ahead.

...


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: This has been sitting in my documents folder forever. I did plan to add more at some point but life just got in the way so I'm posting it as it stands, in the hope that some reviews might give me the boost I need to reconnect to this story As always, much love and appreciation to those special people who have been troopers and stuck with it, and to those who have reviewed. I love you all!

_**Previously...**_

_"But if I'm to play a part in this..." he started, only to be cut off as the Headmaster stood fluidly and turned to look down at him._

_"And as soon as we know what part that may be you shall be included Harry. Until then my boy I'd rather, as I have said, you remained here."_

_"But...!"_

_"__Harry..."__Dumbledore shook his head gently, signalling an end to the conversation. Harry settled for pressing his lips together in agitation._

_A slightly strained silence fell. The soft strains of music from the other room filtered through the doorway._

_Dumbledore's sigh was loud in the resulting quiet._

_"I told you all of this so that if indeed you find yourself in such a position you will be as informed and prepared as is possible in such circumstances Harry. I do not however wish to thrust upon you the responsibility of__finding__such a solution. Which is exactly what I would be doing if I invited you to attend the upcoming meeting. Do you understand?"_

_Harry nodded. He hadn't thought about it like that. His guardian was trying to look after him and here he was, acting like a sulky child._

_"Sorry," he said as he too stood, trying to reign in some of his conspicuously absent maturity. A soft smile acknowledged the apology._

_"It is late. You should try to get some sleep, my boy. Tomorrow will be here before we know it."_

_Harry would have argued that he had not long awoken but decided to bite his tongue. He was trying to be mature after all._

_"Yes sir. I'll just go say goodnight," he said instead, turning for the doorway. A hand at his arm halted his progress and he turned back to the Headmaster in question. Dumbledore fished a small familiar bottle from one of his voluminous pockets and held it out for Harry to take._

_"I think perhaps you may have need of this tonight. I imagine one nightmare in a day is one too many, hmm?"_

_Harry accepted the small bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion with a grateful smile. Well he was no longer worried about lying awake for hours, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling trying to figure things out._

_"Thanks, sir," He responded gratefully, before turning and, with much on his mind, walked towards the quiet voices ahead_

Harry awoke to the droning masculine rumble of voices in the distance. For a moment he lay, eyes closed, listening. He was warm and drowsy, a side effect of a decent night's sleep and for a moment or two he was content to enjoy the comfortable embrace of the mattress and heavy quilt as he followed the indistinct buzz of conversation.

He couldn't make out what was being said but found he could, in his semi awareness, distinguish to whom the voices belonged. Professor Dumbledore's tones were rasping and gravelly with age but still held a deep enough resonance to carry across a room full of students, as Harry himself had witnessed several times in the Great Hall. A softer, clearer tone was easily identified as Moony, Harry smiled sleepily, but again there were no words to pick up on, just a hum of vibration in varying tones like a favourite song being played in the distance.

Harry's arms stuck out in awkward angles as he stretched mightily, his toes curling beneath the covers as he forced his sleepy muscles to awaken. Reaching for his glasses, he slipped them on, sat blinking groggily at the bright day beyond the windows for a full minute before he stood and scrubbed the last vestiges of sleep from his face.

After a brief trip to the loo to brush his teeth and to take care of other essentials, he slipped his feet into a pair of warm socks from the wardrobe and made his way to the source of continuing conversation.

As he descended the wide, worn stone steps soundlessly he could see Remus and Dumbledore seated at a round table he hadn't noticed the day before. It stood before one the tall wide windows which made up the majority of the furthest wall and was covered, from what Harry could see, with various books, parchments and discarded quills. As he reached the bottom step his guardian looked up and smiled widely, his gaze alerting Lupin to Harry's presence.

"Good Morning, Harry!" Dumbledore beamed happily, his full attention on the still sleepy boy shuffling towards them.

Harry smiled and raised a hand quickly in acknowledgment as he closed the distance. Remus, he noted, had turned, one arm across the back of his chair to observe Harry's approach.

"Mornin'" Harry returned quietly, wishing he had taken the time to shower and change before he left his room. It became clear to him as he neared that both wizards had obviously been up and about for quite some time.

Dumbledore flicked his wand and another chair materialised between the two currently occupied. Harry plopped down on it, feeling rather self-conscious.

"How did you sleep, Harry?" Remus asked, his head tilted to better see his young friend's eyes.

"M'ok, I guess. The potion pretty much knocks me out," Harry replied around a huge yawn that he covered just in time with his hand. He used the same hand to support his head as he cast his slightly watering eyes over the documents littering the table. It appeared the aforementioned research had started in earnest.

"I do believe that said potion has yet to run its full course. You still appear tired," the Headmaster commented quietly, and Harry could feel his guardian's gaze and familiar magic as the wizard studied him.

"It has been too long since you oversaw the dormitories Albus, you seem to have forgotten the near Neanderthal-type awakening of teenagers across all four houses. Trust me when I say that Mr Potter is no different than his peers."

Harry both blushed and glowered (as much as he dared) at his Transfigurations Professor who had appeared, as silently as Harry's entrance, directly behind him. His mortification was made worse by both Dumbledore and Remus' amused chuckles and knowing looks.

"Perhaps some breakfast will seek to enliven you further Mr Potter. Come along," McGonagall directed, and with a last, almost pleading look to the men, both of whom wore identical expressions of restrained mirth, Harry stood and again followed behind his strict teacher to the parlour.

In the end it transpired, not surprisingly, that his Professor was correct. After polishing off a steaming plate of cooked sausages, potato cakes, bacon and eggs, Harry was indeed feeling more energetic and awake than he had just a half hour before. He drained his glass of what remained of his orange juice with enjoyment. Professor McGonagall had breezed around the room as he ate but at the sound of his empty glass hitting the table, she stopped again at his side.

"Better?" she asked knowingly, her eyes behind her glasses softened with kindness. Harry smiled a little ruefully back.

"Yes, thanks. Can I go shower and change?" he asked, now acutely aware of his grubbiness and dishevelled mismatched pyjamas. Professor McGonagall's lips thinned for a moment, as though she had heard something particularly unpleasant, but eventually they relaxed and she smiled a little stiffly at him.

"You need not ask Harry. Please feel free to treat the castle as your home for however long you are here," she replied instead. Harry couldn't help but notice that she addressed him by his first name whenever her eyes took on that distinctive shine.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, before standing and heading back into the main room. He had just rounded the stairs and was crouching to employ a burst of speed up them when a voice called his name from behind. He sprung from his slightly bent stoop and used the energy to spin around, his previous grogginess completely gone.

Professor Dumbledore's eyes wrinkled around the edges as he approached; the scalloped creases above his nose smoothing as he glided closer. Harry could see Remus over the Headmaster's shoulder, exactly where he had left him, the wizard's head bent over a thick tomb.

"It appears Minerva's solution proved most successful Harry. You certainly seem reenergised," the old wizard commented serenely, coming to stand before the bright eyed teenager. As Harry was standing on the first step he was, for the first time, almost on eye level with the Headmaster. He absently wondered if he would ever grow to be so tall.

"I was just going up to get dressed, sir," Harry explained, his mind already moving onto what activities he would likely be involved in that day. The question of what his involvement would be in the efforts to release Snape from Voldemort's hold still burned brightly at the forefront and he was determined to get answers, one way or another.

Harry noted the twitch in Dumbledore's bottom lip and surmised his guardian had probably gleamed some of Harry's thoughts. It surprised him to realise he had begun to recognise such subtle signs in the Headmaster.

"Yes, I thought as much, which is why I wanted to warn you now of my probable absence when you finish, my boy."

Harry felt the same sense of unease he had experienced when the Headmaster left Hogwarts to go to the Ministry some days before.

"You're going to the meeting?" Harry clarified, in case anything else had cropped up whilst he was still in bed. He tried for a nonchalant tone and stance, deliberately moving to lean against the thick curving banister beside him.

Dumbledore paused before answering, his ever observant eyes missing nothing. Harry looked down to where his hands were tying his pyjama trouser's drawstring into knots and stopped, looking back up with a self conscious half smile. _So much for playing it cool_, he thought.

"Yes. I'm not sure how long it will last but I doubt more than a few hours Harry. And having ascertained that number 12, Grimmauld Place remains secure, I feel you have very little to worry about." Albus reassured his young ward, noting the slight flinch at the mention of Headquarters' address.

The last thing Harry wanted was to be seen as being clingy. The very thought of it made him shudder with embarrassment and shame but he was very aware that concern for his guardian's welfare – not to mention Remus and the other members of the Order – could easily be misconstrued as such.

"I'm not worried...," he started to say but the raised bushy white eyebrows on Dumbledore's face stopped him short. He squirmed slightly against the banister, the sole of one socked foot rubbing against the lip of the last step. He sighed resignedly.

"Ok, maybe I am but I can't help it," he finally admitted, some of his frustration colouring his tone.

"No more than I can help worrying over you I am sure Harry," Dumbledore readily admitted, "we cannot however allow our concerns to affect us to such a degree that we become unable to carry out our day-to-day lives. The war is already over if such a mentality takes hold."

"Hear hear," Remus softly injected, coming to stand beside Dumbledore. His warm brown eyes crinkled in kindness as he smiled softly at Harry.

"We'll be back before you know it. With hopefully more answers than questions," he reminded Harry, whose expression quickly changed to thoughtful curiosity.

"Which reminds me," Dumbledore muttered, his hands digging in his pockets for a moment before re-emerging with a fistful of tightly rolled scrolls. Harry secretly wondered just how deep Dumbledore's pockets were.

"These arrived for you this morning Harry. I'm sure your friends are eager to hear from you considering their rather abrupt and premature departure from school," the Headmaster advised, passing the correspondence into Harry's outstretched hand.

"There's been so much going on..." Harry guiltily explained, feeling horrible for not writing sooner.

"I'm sure they will understand. Molly, as far as I have been informed, has reassured your friends as to your good health. They remain ignorant, however, of your current whereabouts and I would rather it stayed that way for the time being, my boy," Dumbledore insisted.

Remus had just opened his mouth to add something when a commotion from behind stole his attention. A bright flash of orange flames preceded the arrival of Dumbledore's familiar, Fawkes. But unlike his usual appearance, which was spectacular in itself, the phoenix appeared amidst the glow and roar of fire with his tail held firmly by the petite hand of Nymphadora Tonks.

Harry's mouth dropped open at the sight.

Tonks seemed to stagger slightly when her hand slipped from the feathers above her and immediately Remus and Dumbledore were at her side, Remus' hand clasped around her upper arm. Tonks, whose eyes had so far been almost comically squeezed together, opened them to stare in astonishment at the faces around her.

"Wow. Head rush," she smiled, shaking her head slightly as though to clear it.

"I admit it does take some getting used to my dear. Are you quite alright?" Dumbledore enquired solicitously, his hand mirroring Remus' as he closed it over the curve of her shoulder.

Fawkes soared overhead, his huge wingspan carrying him effortlessly around the circumference of the room before he swooped down to land gracefully on the banister beside Harry. Harry looked from a clearly dazed Tonks to Fawkes, his hand automatically smoothing the scarlet feathers across his back.

"Ah Nymphadora, you're here..." Professor McGonagall stated rather redundantly as she came into sight, though Harry couldn't help but notice from the statement that the young Auror had obviously been expected.

"Fawkes seen to that Professor," Tonks acknowledged, nodding to both wizards hovering protectively over her to signal she was fine.

"Wotcher Harry!" Tonks grinned as her gaze travelled to the staircase. Harry couldn't help but grin back as he stepped down, his eyes drawn to the scarlet shock of hair, the exact colour of Fawkes' plumage, sticking out in all directions.

"Hallo Tonks. That was some entrance," Harry joked, coming to stand before her.

"Wasn't it? Sure beats falling out the floo," she winked, giggling a little when Harry blushed. Apparently his inaptitude at flooing was known far and wide, he thought a little mulishly.

"We'll be off then," Dumbledore announced, turning to stare quite seriously at Tonks. Harry noticed she stood a little straighter under the gaze.

"You know what to do in case of emergency?" the Headmaster questioned, his voice easily carrying the seriousness of the subject.

"Yes, sir," Tonks replied respectfully.

Dumbledore held her gaze a moment longer before he nodded and bestowed a fond smile, his hand resting again for a moment on her arm.

"I am sure all will be quiet Nymphadora," Harry saw her grimace slightly at the use of her full name, "but I feel better knowing you are here if I am proven wrong," he finished, turning towards Harry at the young Auror's pleased blush.

"As you have probably deduced for yourself, my boy, clever as you are, young Miss Tonks will be here in our absence to watch ove.."Dumbledore paused at Harry's developing frown. He smiled indulgently as he continued, "That is to say, to keep you company Harry."

Harry noticed Remus and McGonagall shrugging on their outer cloaks from the corner of his eye. He nodded once, the same prickly feeling of dread swirling in his stomach. Dumbledore hesitated for a moment as he watched the play of emotions cross the young boy's face. For a moment Harry thought he might say something else but instead the elderly wizard briefly placed his warm hand atop Harry's head before he too turned towards the entrance hall.

Remus paused at Harry, letting his two former colleagues pass him by.

"We'll be back soon. Be good," Remus jested, his hands briefly squeezing Harry's upper arms before he too swept from the room.

After a few beats the loud cracks of apparition echoed across the countryside and Harry stopped himself from sighing out loud.

"Nice P.J's by the way," Tonks commented into the quiet, making a show of looking him up and down. Harry blushed furiously, the heat of rushing blood crawling over his neck and cheeks enough to distract him from his anxiety. He met Tonk's golden eyes briefly before looking down at himself, mortified at his appearance.

"Uh, yeah, I was just going to get ready when you appeared," he explained, his hands smoothing down his rather wrinkled muggle t-shirt. Tonks smiled wider, her usual buzzing energy as present as ever.

"Well don't let me stop you Harry. I'm gonna be busy for the next half hour anyway. Professor Dumbledore asked me to add a few wards to the castle while I'm here," she confided, seemingly pleased with the opportunity to do so.

Harry promised not to take too long as he promptly backed away before turning and, as was his intention previously, dashed up the worn steps in the direction of his room.

Twenty three minutes later found Harry sitting on his bed, his concentration on the unfurled scrolls in his hands. Showered and dressed in faded jeans, a plain white t-shirt and his customary zippered hoodie, he ignored the occasional drops of cold water that ran from his water flattened hair to the collar of his t-shirt as his eyes slowly progressed down the length of parchment.

Hermione's neatly penned letter read much the same as Ron's, Harry discovered, the only difference being his bushy haired friend used twice as many words and a biro pen in order to cram them tightly together.

Both were concerned, curious and frustrated with the lack of information. Well Harry certainly knew that feeling. Now, at least, they had an idea of how he had felt last summer, he thought a little uncharitably. He re-rolled the scroll and placed it, like the others, in the little bedside cabinet drawer. He'd ask Professor McGonagall for some spare parchment when she returned so he could write back and reassure his friends. He really didn't want their summers ruined sitting worrying over him, he thought more kindly.

Reaching down he wrestled his feet into his trainers and grabbing his wand, he headed back downstairs. He found the living room empty as he reached the bottom step and looked curiously around, his legs carrying him to the parlour. Again he found it empty, and after pausing a moment to appreciate the calmer seas beyond the window, he hesitantly made his way to the doorway at the other side.

The door opened into a warm, sweet smelling kitchen whose wide expanse of butcher block worktops gleamed in the brightening light filtering in through the far window.

"Harry Potter! Is you be's needing something?" Wicky asked politely, having appeared from around the island cabinets in the centre of the room. Harry smiled down at the elf and stepped further into the sparkling kitchen.

"I was just looking for Tonks," Harry explained, a note of question in his voice.

"Miss Dora is being outside Harry Potter. You be's better to wait inside me thinks." She advised solemnly, her hands dusting flour from the apron tied around her tiny waist.

Harry looked around the kitchen again as the allusive sunlight broke through the shifting cloud and spilled in through the high window, its rays causing the stainless steel scattered throughout to twinkle and shine. He tried very hard not to think of rolling green fields, fresh sea breezes and Quiddich.

"Yeah.." he sighed dejectedly, almost missing the Dursley's small but well tended garden.

A flash of fire at the far of the kitchen startled Harry from his thoughts. It was Fawkes and not, as Harry had first imagined an unfortunate cooking accident.

"Fawksey be scaring young Harry!" Wicky angrily accused, her long finger pointed as she tottered towards the rather regal looking phoenix. Fawkes warbled a clear note in apology, its effects instantly lightening the mood of both elf and boy. Harry watched as the phoenix bent it neck towards the elf, preening a little as Wicky scratched the scarlet and gold feathers around his neck.

"Silly Fawksey." Wicky accused good naturedly, her previous anger seemingly forgotten.

Another doorway, facing the one Harry had entered through, swung open to reveal Tonks, her hands rubbing against each other as though to heat them up. She smiled brightly when she noticed Harry, her cheeks still red from being outside.

"Still a bit nippy out there," she reported, "It's a wonder the Scots don't pack up and head south for the summer."

Harry grinned, caught up in his friend's contagiously good mood.

"Did you finish the wards?" he asked, regretful he hadn't been able to watch as the Auror worked.

"Sure did. I also added a few of my own Harry. Auror tricks of the trade you know?" she winked, coming to stand before Harry. Harry noticed, quite happily, that they were roughly the same height.

"You'll never guess what I found.." Tonks teased, obviously delighted with her secret knowledge and dying for an opportunity to share it.

Harry shrugged as he spoke, leaning forward slightly to hear the answer. "Voldemort's hairdresser?" he jokingly guessed, smiling broadly as Tonks laughed out loud.

"Even better than that! Follow me."

Harry trailed in Tonk's wake as she led him out the other door, along a side corridor and into what appeared to be McGonagall's study. Harry hesitated at the doorway.

The room appeared smaller due the floor to ceiling bookshelves covering every available wall space, their slightly bevelled shelves packed tightly with the multicoloured spines of books of various heights. A large, neatly organised desk stood to one side, short stacks of slightly curling parchment arranged in piles to one side. The chair behind the desk was similar to the one Dumbledore had in his office, or at least Harry thought so; it was hard to tell with a green tartan shawl draped over the cushioned back. A small, cabriole legged table stood under the one narrow archers window, its gleaming surface filled with very muggle looking photo frames filled with still, non magical photos.

Harry looked over at Tonks, who was bouncing on her toes a little in the middle of the room.

"Should we even be in here?" he asked uncomfortably, feeling as though he were trespassing.

"Course we should! McGonagall said to make myself at home when she asked me to come. Anyway you haven't seen what I wanted to show you yet!" she encouraged, nodding her head towards the corner Harry couldn't see from his position at the threshold. He slowly entered the room, as though scared his Professor was about to jump out from a dusty corner and shout at him.

He blinked in shock. An old fashioned television sat on a Chippendale table, its slightly curved glass reflecting the room around them. Harry scoffed in amazement, feeling a little like Mowgli as he stumbled across civilisation.

"Does it even work?" he asked incredulously, thinking of the various muggle devices that his fellow students had tried, and failed, to make work at Hogwarts.

"Only one way to find out!" Tonks grinned, tripping slightly as she crouched in front of it.

.

.

"That's just daft. He already knows she's not going to cop to it," Tonks commented, her hand digging in the wide bowl of popcorn nestled between them.

After finding out the TV did, in fact, work, Tonks had conjured an overstuffed sofa in front of it and both she and Harry had sat, munching on the popcorn happily provided by Wicky, for the last two hours, their attention now on an afternoon movie. The old black and white film seemed almost fitting in their current surroundings.

"She's trying to lure him in. I bet you the rest of the popcorn she tries something," Harry responded, feeling less on edge than he did earlier. He couldn't, however, stop his eyes from occasionally resting on the carriage clock ensconced between books on the shelves facing them.

"Using her feminine wiles eh Harry?" Tonks winked, chucking at Harry's predictable blush.

"I meant the gun in the umbrella stand," he clarified, giving Tonks a mock glare.

Both turned their attention back to the screen. Harry had, after watching Tonks confidently use the remote, discovered that the metamorphmagus had a wide screen TV at her London flat, as well as pretty much every other gadget known to muggle-kind. He couldn't help but think that Mr Weasley would be a hard guest to get rid of if he ever stopped by for afternoon tea.

The ominous musical tones of impending drama brought his attention back to the screen just as the aforementioned woman aimed her pearl handled pistol at the leading detective.

"Ha! Told you," he laughed, pulling the bowl more firmly to his side in the process.

"_Ah_. Humphrey Bogart. I met him once, years ago. Nice chap."

Harry whipped his head around so quickly at the sound of another voice he very nearly upset the whole bowl. Professor Dumbledore leaned casually against the inside of the doorway, arms crossed, his twinkling eyes taking in the scene before him. Harry jumped up from his seat, relief and awkwardness vying for dominance. He settled for relief as he met his guardian's eyes.

"Professor! I didn't hear you come back, sir," Harry said, hearing the orchestral music again swell around them as the final scene played out.

"No reason you would, my boy. The others have remained behind to hash out some final Order related business. I was no longer strictly needed." Dumbledore turned his attention to Tonks.

"And let me compliment the additional wards Nymphadora. The tripping and tickling hexes you incorporated made for an unexpected but exciting trip across the gardens," he winked, smiling further as the young Auror blushed with embarrassment.

"I'll be heading off then Professor. I've got to get back to London before Kinsley returns from Headquarters. He'll have my neck if I don't finish my reports today," she admitted with a guilty smile, turning to gaze fondly at Harry.

"And you," she started, before suddenly swinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling his head beneath it, her other hand scrubbing the squirming teens wild hair with her knuckles.

"Geroff!" Harry panted, his face flushed but grinning. He leaned away, panting, when the deceptively strong arm loosened and fell away.

"Look after yourself Harry. And get cracking with the books, we won't have any slackers in the Auror department," she warned, though her eyes gleamed with a fondness Harry had seen before.

"Thank-you Nymphadora," Dumbledore acknowledged as the Auror passed him, nodding in farewell as she went.

Harry reached up and tried to flatten his hair though he knew it was probably a lost cause. Dumbledore stood from the doorway and wand in hand, vanished the sofa taking up most of the floor space. The half empty bowl of popcorn floated serenely through the air to land on McGonagall's desk. Harry flicked the switch at the side of the TV and the picture, as though caught in a whirlpool, shrank into the centre of the screen before disappearing with a small whine of farewell. The silence was loud in the resulting quiet.

"I'm afraid I ruined the ending for you Harry." Dumbledore apologised as again he swept his wand and two, equally stuffed but more elaborately decorated chairs spun into existence. He indicated Harry should take one as he sank into the other.

"That's ok. I pretty much figured out what was going to happen anyway," Harry dismissed, dropping into the comfortable chair.

"Which is more than we can say regarding our current dilemma; I'm sure you are curious to know what transpired at the meeting?" Dumbledore asked, though it was obvious to both what the answer would be. Wicky appeared at that moment with a steaming cup of tea held in both her small hands. She traversed the carpeted room carefully.

"Ah thank-you Wicky. You read an old man's mind," Albus said kindly, taking the offered cup and saucer from the elf. Wicky scampered off as soon as she was free of her burden.

"Did it not go well then, sir?" Harry enquired, feeling the copious amounts of popcorn he had eaten swill slowly in his stomach.

"It went as well as I had imagined, Harry, which is to say that after much discussion, and, in some cases, arguing, my original idea continues to be the easiest way forward for all involved." Dumbledore sipped calmly at his tea, his great head of hair catching the afternoon's sunlight as it streamed in a wedge across the room.

"Is that not a good thing?"

Dumbledore seemed to consider the question for a moment, his lips pursed in thought.

"It is certainly preferable to having no options," he finally responded. While Harry agreed with the sentiment, he was beginning to believe that Dumbledore would never enlighten him as to what exactly this idea was. As though reading his thoughts, something Harry alternatively found disconcerting and reassuring, the Headmaster rested his saucer and cup on his knee and looked enquiringly at Harry over the tops of his glasses.

"Tell me Harry. How much do you know about the Dark Mark?"

The question surprised Harry and for a moment or two he said nothing. He eventually managed to kick his mind into action and thought back to what he had witnessed in the past few years.

"Not that much Professor," he admitted. "I know that Voldemort uses it to call his Death Eaters to him, and that he can inflict torture through it, obviously. Umm. That's about it, sir," Harry finished, feeling as though he should have known more.

"There is very little known beyond those facts," Albus reassured Harry, "except of course by those who have chosen to have the mark branded on their arm."

"Snape," Harry realised aloud, though he immediately recognised a glimmer of disapproval in the Headmaster's eyes.

"_Professor_ Snape, is indeed a rare source of knowledge on the marks inception, use and powers, yes. It is for that reason he was present at today's meeting."

Well at least Harry now knew why there had been arguments.

"As I have said before, the dark mark is a powerful form of magic, used to tether a witch or wizard permanently to the castor much like, it pains me to admit, our magical ancestors – who took it upon themselves to bind those of lesser power to their households to perform as slaves and objects of torment. I think you will agree, my boy, that the current dark mark holds true to its original purpose."

Harry nodded, rather sickened at the revealing insight into his own kind.

"My guess is that a young Tom Riddle, who at the time was travelling the globe in search of the deepest and darkest magic's, stumbled across a version of the mark and immediately set to work in making it his own. Tom always was one for planning ahead," Dumbledore added, his deep voice sad despite his dark sarcasm. He seemed to shake off the gloomy thoughts a moment later however and sighed, his eyes alive with knowledge as they again focussed on Harry.

"The young, emerging Lord Voldemort needed a way of ensuring, distrustful as he is, that his followers would have no way of either turning on him or abandoning the cause he so fiercely advocated. Can you guess what his considerations might have been when deciding on how best to achieve this? Bearing in mind what I have told you regarding his discoveries?"

Harry sighed, his forehead creasing as he tried, a little reluctantly, to put himself in Voldemort's shoes.

"Well I suppose he would have wanted something only he could control, I mean it wouldn't work if any other wizard, or those who had the mark could easily change it or control its power, right?" he looked to Dumbledore for confirmation, who smiled widely and nodded for him to continue.

"And I guess it would have to be something that couldn't be removed. It wouldn't be much worth much, to him I mean, if his followers could easily cast it off." Harry reasoned, warming to the subject.

"Indeed Harry," the Headmaster encouraged, his mouth lifted at one side. Harry paused, his eyes drifting to the archer's window as he continued to think.

"And, well, I suppose it would need to be a secret. If everyone knew what he was casting, they could probably find a counter spell or some other way of getting rid of it." He finished, looking back at Dumbledore for his opinion.

"Very well reasoned, dear boy! Had we been at Hogwarts I would have proudly awarded points for such fine deduction," Dumbledore gushed, causing Harry to squirm a little in his seat despite his obviously pleased smile.

"So we have a unique and dark spell created for Tom's own nefarious purposes, unchangeable, irremovable and unknown to the wizardling world at large." Dumbledore summarised, and Harry nodded his agreement, bringing his legs up to sit Indian style as he leaned forward.

"But then, Harry, what is to stop Tom's followers, who have witnessed and indeed felt the agony of accepting the magical binding, from telling their experience to others? Including, most importantly, the precise incantation used? We already know after all, from our own Professor Snape, that there are no such restrictions in place."

Harry deflated slightly, his brow again furrowed. The silence lasted only a few seconds before Dumbledore continued, much to Harry's relief.

"I'll give you a clue. What if the incantation used to apply the mark was in a language not known or understood amongst the masses? One that could not be repeated?"

Harry held Dumbledore's gaze for a charged moment, realisation creeping in.

"You mean another foreign language, sir? Like German or, or French?" he stuttered, stalling for time.

"No, no my boy. A language much less common than those – a language only a privileged few have the ability to speak and understand. I think you realise where this is going," the Headmaster gently pointed out, his hand placing his half full cup and saucer on the small, photo filled table.

Harry rubbed his hands across the rough surface of his jeans, his gaze searching Dumbledore's face. The Headmaster seemed to realise that the teen was having difficulty voicing what he had already realised.

"Parseltongue Harry. The language of serpents. I doubt Voldemort foresaw his passing the rare talent to you much later in life when he first created the incantation." Albus explained gently, watching the teenager carefully.

Harry looked down at the carpet between them, watching the dust drift lazily in the shaft of light coming through the window. His ability to speak Parseltongue had always been a bone of contention for Harry. From the moment it had emerged its use had very nearly always caused a headache for him. The snake at the zoo, the rumours around the Chamber of Secrets, the basilisk and his connection with Voldemort – all had been stressful and emotional times in Harry's life and as a result he had come to see his 'talent' as more of a curse. As he allowed the thought to sink in however, he realised that this was clearly a chance for him to utilise his ability for the greater good and, hopefully, a chance to change his opinion of his rare and adopted talent.

"I imagine Voldemort won't be pleased if he discovers I'm using his own magic against him," Harry finally said, raising his eyes again.

Dumbledore's cheeks twitched, as though a smirk was fighting to be released.

"No I imagine he won't," he agreed, appearing to be content again.

Harry sat back in his chair, his toes digging into the upholstered cushion.

"But I don't know how to incant in Parseltongue, sir. Or what I should say," Harry pointed out; worried it wasn't as simple as the Headmaster first thought. Perhaps his teachers presumed he could? If that was the case they were sure to be disappointed.

"I'm not too worried about that Harry," Albus dismissed, "The language is very rarely the key to successfully casting a spell, as I am sure you have discussed in Charms. Indeed, the spells, curses and charms we teach today are derived from an assortment of ancient languages; Aramaic, Latin, Greek and English being the most common. It is the intention and force of will that ultimately count, and in this case of course, the ability to counter said spell in the same tongue. As for the incantation – I doubt it will be too difficult to figure out. Tom's supreme confidence in his own abilities, in particular his singular ability to converse with snakes, very likely made him complacent when designing the Dark Mark. I imagine he would have used the most direct instruction simply because he could."

Harry looked slightly doubtful.

"But there is only one way of proving all of this, my boy. On your feet, wand out," he instructed suddenly, his own wand slipping in to his hand as he unfolded his tall body from the chair. Harry unfolded his legs and stood, looking nervous as he fumbled in his pocket for his wand. He blushed as the long length of wood snagged for a moment on the material of his hoodie, before finally breaking free.

Dumbledore's forehead creased, his silver, opulent robes shimmering slightly as he took a step forward.

"You need not be nervous Harry," he soothed, vanishing the chairs behind them with a careless sweep of his hand.

Harry scratched his wand arm absently as he noted the ease with which the Headmaster utilised wandless magic. It didn't exactly help with his sudden rush of self doubt.

"What if I can't do it?" he asked finally, "what will happen to Sn, Professor Snape then?"

Dumbledore shrugged lightly, his eyes remaining bright and focussed as he answered.

"Then we will look at other options Harry. As I said at the beginning, this may prove the easiest option – but it is far from the only one. You are not being saddled with the sole responsibility of solving this. You are merely assisting in proving or disproving one theoretical solution. There are many others to consider," Albus reassured, turning his back to pace a few feet away, like a dueller preparing for a fight.

Harry widened his stance a little, watching as the Headmaster turned back to him and held his wand out. For a horrible, adrenaline inducing moment he thought Dumbledore was going to fire off a spell but the man, seeing Harry's face, lowered it again to point at the carpet. His frown was slightly quizzical as he spoke.

"Relax, my boy. I have no intention of testing your defensive skills; indeed, this is in no way a test at all. Think of it as an experiment, one in which I myself, I confess, am interested as to the outcome, for no other reason than intellectual curiosity."

Harry heard the reassurance there. He wasn't going to disappoint the man if he failed.

"Ok. What should I do?" he asked, relaxing his stance and shaking the tension from his shoulders.

Dumbledore nodded slightly in encouragement, "I suggest we start at the beginning. First year charms. How's your _Lumos_ Harry?" he asked, in the tone one would enquire as to the health of their neighbour's summer begonias.

Harry grinned a little, lifting his wand just as the tip began to glow. By the time he held it in front of him it was shining proudly like a beacon, its white blue light reflecting off the shiny spines of books around the room.

A flick of Dumbledore's wand set the light flickering and Harry watched, surprised, as the small ball of brightness appeared to disconnect slightly from the tip of his wand before shooting across to the Headmaster, whose own carved wand absorbed it like a vacuum cleaner would dust.

"Perhaps we should start with those charms you have not yet learned to cast non-verbally?" Albus smiled a little sardonically.

Harry thought about that, still slightly distracted by the Headmaster's light stealing wandwork.

"Well I've learned to do most first year charms and jinxes non-verbally, sir," he concluded, rolling his wand between his fingers.

"Then perhaps we should focus instead on offensive magic Harry. I believe your _Expelliarmus_ is most effective?"

_Offensive spells?_ Harry thought will alarm.

"You want me to disarm you, sir?" he clarified, extremely uneasy at the notion - his wand hand hanging loosely at his side.

"I want you to try, yes. Ah, of course, you'll be needing..." the Headmaster muttered, seemingly relaxed about the whole idea. He drew a small circle in the air and deftly caught the small, bright green grass snake that materialised – its narrow, pink tongue immediately flicking out to taste the air around it.

Dumbledore used both hands to cradle the curious, writhing snake against his chest as he calmly closed the distance between his position and Harry's, his gaze on the small serpent now sampling his beard.

"I'm afraid I must leave the introductions to you, my boy," he quietly announced as he stopped a foot away. A small, barely perceptible hiss issued from the tiny snake. At least it sounded so to Albus' ears. He watched Harry interestedly as the boy's face obviously registered something different.

Harry could indeed understand the snake's question, and was not surprised by it.

"You're in a castle. I'm sorry if we scared you." Harry answered, watching the small, flattened head swing curiously towards him. Dumbledore smiled faintly, offering his small bundle to the softly hissing young man before him.

Harry accepted the snake with one hand, listening again as the juvenile serpent asked, quite sensibly, what he was doing there.

"I need to see you to speak," Harry frowned, his intended words losing something in the translation. "You'll be safe here. And warm. We'll send you back when I finish," Harry reassured, though he was unsure as to where the strikingly green snake had been conjured from.

"Ok Harry?" Albus enquired, having listened, fascinated, for the past few seconds.

"Yes, sir. He's just curious." Harry explained, listening as his small friend asked to be put down. Looking up and around he spotted a shelf beside them that was enjoying the heat and light from the facing window and, after asking politely that the inquisitive young snake not move from his new position, carefully deposited him on the sun warmed wood where he proceeded to coil into a small, tight ball.

"Ready Harry?" the Headmaster enquired, having created some distance between them again.

Harry moved back to his original position and turned, able to see both snake and wizard from his vantage point. He swallowed nervously.

"What if I hurt you?" he finally asked, admitting his fear. It was not his only fear of course, but the memory of Snape flying through the air and being knocked unconscious after slamming into the wall in the Shrieking Shack chose that moment to resurface, making this fear his most pressing.

"You won't hurt me. I will make it very easy for you," Dumbledore reassured, and Harry wondered if his confidence came from his belief in Harry's level of control or in the wizard's own defensive abilities.

_Expelliarmus_, Harry knew, was a command to 'thrust away' an opponent's wand or weapon. As he raised his slightly unsteady wand and widened his stance once more, he concentrated furiously on those sentiments as he looked from the relaxed, unmoving Headmaster to the snake, his hand tingling with pooling magic.

"_Weapon be gone_!" he shouted, feeling the familiar zing of the successful spell as it shot through his wand. He heard, rather than saw the Headmaster's own wand clatter against the doorframe and blinked, breathing slightly elevated with the release of tension.

"Well done Harry. Very well done indeed," Dumbledore congratulated, his wand flying back to his hand with a gesture.

Harry straightened, immensely pleased. _It had worked!_ He felt excited at this new discovery.

"The incantation was odd..." he confessed. It seemed that Parseltongue and English were not wholly translatable.

"Unsurprising, my boy. The wording of any spell changes depending on the language."

Harry gently stroked the flattened head of the snake when he reached him, smiling when it hissed in pleasure and pressed further into the touch. He continued the gentle petting as he turned his head back to Dumbledore.

"So do you think it will work then? For Professor Snape?" he asked, feeling a new confidence it would.

Albus titled his head, his gaze on the young snake enjoying Harry's attentions.

"I believe it may be worth a try, yes."

Harry looked up from his new friend, his emerald green eyes narrowing slightly. "But?" he asked, perhaps a little accusingly, having recognised something off with the Headmaster's statement. Was the old wizard holding something back again? He looked back down at the unfurling snake when he saw a similar narrowing of his guardian's eyes. He gently lifted the small serpent and allowed it to slither through his fingers and around his wrist, the smooth feeling of it's scales a comfort.

"I was going to add that I did not want you to be disappointed if your assistance fails to effect any change. This is untried, untested magic and not without its own risks.."

The sibilant hiss from the young snake wove its way around the wizards, cutting through Dumbledore's words and causing him to fall silent. Harry lifted his arm to eye level, noticing the intricate overlapping pattern of his friend's tiny scales as he brought him closer.

"He's my teacher. And a great stickwaver too..." Harry answered, chuckling a little at the Parseltongue word for wizard. A movement to his left brought his attention back and he looked up at his Headmaster, an apology playing around his face. Dumbledore seem unfazed by the interruption and reached out a long fingered hand to gently stroke the shining scales, allowing the small darting tongue to whisper across his wrist.

"We must proceed carefully Harry. Voldemort's possession of you at the Ministry quite obviously affected him and as such he has since refrained from utilising the connection you share. We do not know if said connection will affect your attempts to aide Severus."

Mention of the Ministry dulled the light in Harry's eyes almost as effectively as Dumbledore's earlier light stealing wandwork. He swallowed tightly, his glittering gaze focussed on the Headmaster's hand where it continued to hold the serpent's attention. The breath he released shuddered quietly – the only outward sign of his upset. He blinked away the sting in his eyes and wrestled his pain back down to his stomach, where it had resided, hot and writhing, since the Department of Mysteries.

"Do you think..." he stopped, cleared his throat and hoped his voice didn't betray his turmoil when he tried to speak again. "Do you think Voldemort will know I'm helping? That it's me who is trying to undo his binding?" he managed, proud of his steady tone.

There was a moment of quiet, and Harry busied himself by unravelling the scaly body of the snake before laying it once again on the sun bleached shelf. He slid his empty hands into his jean pockets and finally turned to the Headmaster, whose bright blue eyes shone, as always, with understanding and knowledge.

"There is of course the possibility Harry. The research I have done thus far has been...inconclusive. The connection is quite unique. Safeguards will be put in place, by me and others to ensure your safety should events spiral out of control. Your safety is paramount, my boy."

Dumbledore stepped forward and closed a hand over his young charge's shoulder, offering the comfort Harry would never ask for. He watched another shaky sigh escape, the boys eyes averted again as he studied the toes of his shoes.

"I miss him," Harry quietly admitted, swallowing with some difficulty. The weight of Dumbledore's hand lifted, leaving him feeling slightly bereft, but only for a second. Long arms folded around his shoulders and his vision became obscured by the robes and beard of the Headmaster as he was pressed against the man's chest.

"I know," Dumbledore rumbled, his arms pressing tighter for a moment.

Harry, hands still in his pockets, rubbed his forehead slightly against the softness of the hair beneath his face and sucked in a long breath, the smell of parchment and lemon soothing his sore throat.

TBC...


	17. Authors Note

Authors Note:

I need not point out that it's been quite some time since I last updated this story. For those who have followed it since the beginning I give my deepest apologies – as an avid reader I am familiar with the frustration of waiting for updates.

I seem to have lost any direction or enthusiasm for this piece of fiction. I seem to have written myself into a proverbial corner. That said, I am not giving up. I am calling on my fellow writers and readers to help me with some plot ideas.

Any and all suggestions are welcome, if, indeed, there remains any interest in seeing this story continue.

I thank you in advance for your help and offer assurances that all messages will be responded to.

Little-Starling


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: This chapter begins in the late evening, the day following the last chapter. In synopsis; Harry has been relocated to Professor McGonagall's ancestral home following the dire pronouncement that Severus has received instructions to kidnap Harry from school. Albus and others, including Harry, have devised a possible way to circumvent these orders that will allow Severus to continue to live.

Allow me to add a very heartfelt thank you to all who took the time to respond to my cry for help. Your suggestions have proven invaluable and have helped to form the outline of the upcoming chapters. It was beyond reassuring to know that there was still interest in this story despite the time lapse. I (nervously!) hope you enjoy this chapter and would, as always, be delighted to hear your constructive thoughts. They really do motivate this author.

Very special thanks to Kittyrunner – who kindly agreed to put my mind at ease by reading over the various stages of this chapter as it developed. Such help from a truly talented author was both a blessing and an honour. If you haven't yet read her fic 'Harry Potter and the Time of Transition', I urge you to do so.

Any sunshine that had daringly fought to shine upon the most northerly point in the British Isles the day before had been beaten back and smothered by the unrelenting expanse of steel grey clouds that now dominated the skyline. A fine, persistent mist of moisture drifted in the sea breeze, dampening the aged stone of the castle behind Harry to a shade of grey seen in the scaled rocks and cyprine shells littering the beach far below. The sun, hidden as it was behind the turbulent and fast moving cloud cover, managed only to highlight the lighter patches in its decent towards the horizon.

Harry shivered, pushing his hands deeper into the warm pockets of his jeans where the salt water had not yet soaked through. It was silly, he knew, to stay; he was cold and wet, his glasses misted over with a sheen of precipitation, and, judging from the darkened slanted shadows he could see on the horizon, heavier rain would soon make landfall.

Gulls and guillemots rode the thermals high above the cliff edge, some seeming to hover in stillness for extended periods before swooping or banking sharply in an impressive aerial display. Harry envied their freedom. He used the cuff of his hoodie to wipe the gathering moisture from his glasses as he followed their movements, wondering idly how Hedwig was faring and when he might next have the chance to fly his firebolt.

It would not be long before someone came to usher him inside, in any event, he knew. He had been granted permission to explore the gardens and take in some air a half hour before; after all, with so many witches and wizards roaming the halls of McGonagall Castle it was felt he would be safe enough within the ancient wards, with ready assistance at hand if he should suddenly need it.

It was nice to be out of doors, despite the weather. Harry had been cooped up for weeks now in one castle or the other and he had missed the simple pleasures of being outside. It was one of the reasons he was delaying his return to the comfort and warmth of the castle. Not the only one though, and if he were honest, not the most pressing.

Professor Snape had arrived with Kinsley Shacklebolt in tow; the two wizards, intimidating in their own ways, had immediately joined Dumbledore, Remus and Professor McGonagall in the parlour for a discussion that did not include Harry. Initially peeved, one look at Snape's forbidding expression was enough to swallow whatever objections he had and instead, follow Professor McGonagall's suggestion of getting some air.

A low, hand built drystone wall, crumbling in some places, marked the limits of the property and furthest extension of the wards. It curved and hugged the contours of the craggy cliff edge, stretching out at either side in a serpentine manner that at times disappeared beyond the peak of a low lying hill only to reappear in the distance on another. Harry rested his weight precariously on a pile of flat, weather beaten stones that had at one time formed a part of the perimeter. He drew his numb hands into his sleeves and bent over his knees, laying his head upon his arms as he watched the choppy waters in the distance.

It wouldn't be long now. The task that lay ahead loomed in his mind like a dementor and had done since his conversation with Dumbledore two days ago. He had spent the entire day thus far practicing his Parseltongue casting, starting with the basics before graduating to both offensive and defensive spell work, all under the watchful eye of either the Headmaster or Remus. When it was clear he had achieved all he could with that particular activity, and indeed, was comfortable in both his Parseltongue and his casting, the last hours before Snape's arrival had been spent with all three of his elders, going over the incantations he would try when the time came to attempt to remove the Dark Mark.

From what he could gather, the research undertaken by his guardian and Remus had provided very little new information, and from what Dumbledore had said; his conversations with Snape, conversations that had obviously taken place out with Harry's earshot, had only reinforced what little knowledge they already possessed. Snape's memories of the event, even viewed through a pensieve, revealed very little. His guardian had explained that upon the first touch of Voldemort's wand to Snape's arm, the pain had been so immense that anything following it had been blurry and broken at best. And as the Dark Lord cast wards before bestowing his mark, even those followers who were present at new recruit initiations, Snape included, were privy only to the sight of witches and wizards, young and old, screaming soundlessly and writhing with untold pain.

It had made Harry a little sick to his stomach. In the end they had agreed, much to Professor McGonagall's continuing disapproval, on several variations of a type of spell Harry had never cast – a sort of advanced unsticking charm and banishment spell combined into one. He had had several hours to practice the Parseltongue versions of all of them. But doubt persisted, despite his practice and the reassurances of those around him.

A zing of magic startled Harry from his thoughts. He upset the stones he was perched on when he sprang up and around, his wand in hand. Professor Dumbledore strode calmly towards him, his lips slightly pursed as he finally gazed down at his dishevelled charge. Harry realised the Headmaster must have cast an_impervious_, as he no longer felt the tickle of cold misted rain across his reddened cheeks.

"Whilst I'm a firm believer in the healing power of nature, Harry, I think any benefits you may have gained will be counteracted by your continued exposure to the elements." Dumbledore said, waving his wand in a lazy arc around Harry's head. The rush of magic made Harry shiver, but his clothes, now dry and warm against his cool skin felt blissful, and he hunkered into his hoodie a little to enjoy the new warmth. He saw Dumbledore smile slightly, and smiled himself when the Headmaster cast another warming charm with the hand not holding his wand.

"Thanks" Harry acknowledged, feeling a little foolish for not thinking of the basic charms himself, but secretly relishing the feeling behind it. The alien one of being looked after; of being cared for. He shivered a little as the warmth sank deeper, not realising how chilled he had become in his time spent outdoors. Dumbledore, his sharp eyes missing little, clasped Harry by the shoulder and steered him into step, heading across the rough, thickened grass to the castle entrance.

"Tis truly a magnificent view, my boy, but not one worth your continued good health! Let us retreat to the comforts of cushioned chairs and hot drinks hmm?"

Thirty five minutes later, Harry was indeed curled into a cushioned wing backed chair and had his hands wrapped around a steamy mug of hot chocolate, having polished off a large bowl of Scots Broth and crusty bread, still warm from the oven. He felt full and warm, though nerves kept any drowsiness at bay quite effectively. Dumbledore had joined him for an early supper and Harry had even managed a snorted laugh when the wizard managed to dip his beard into his broth as he took his seat. But now he was alone again and any levity he had found in his guardians company had followed the Headmaster from the room. He swallowed a mouthful of creamy, sweetened chocolate and passed his hand across his top lip to clear the residue left behind. The adults were apparently delineating an area where this experiment would take place, temporary wards – Dumbledore had explained while they ate- to reinforce the safety of all involved and to keep the location of Professor McGonagall's ancestral home a secret should Tom catch a glimpse during the event.

'_Catch a glimpse'_ indeed. Harry could only imagine two ways in which that could happen and one relied on Harry's non-existent grasp of Occlumency for any hope of being averted. Shaking off his morose thoughts, Harry did as he had promised Dumbledore minutes before and thought seriously on whether he wished to undertake this endeavour. His guardian, perhaps sensing Harry's hesitation and perhaps, Harry suspected, nursing his own concerns, had reassured him once more that he, Harry was under no obligation nor pressure to attempt this removal. As he had continued, Harry had the sense that the Headmaster was actually attempting to sway him away from the task now that it was upon them.

But Harry knew, as he had when the he had first discussed this with Dumbledore, that he would help in any way he could. That is was Snape who required this help was inconsequential. Harry knew he would lend whatever assistance he could to any victim of Voldemort, or indeed anyone whose life hanged in the balance. It was simply who he was. And despite his new circumstances and the feelings it had roused, that of being cared for and of having an adult to call his own – he was not a child. Not when it came to life and death scenarios at any rate. He could not sit idly by while knowing that there was a chance, as slight as it may be, that he could affect some change; which is exactly what he had told the Headmaster when the wizard had appeared conflicted.

With these thoughts firmly in his mind, Harry set his cup aside and walked steadily to the parlour, following the sounds of numerous voices engaged in overlapping conversation. The main living area of the castle appeared unusually cramped given the number of people milling around. The fireside chairs had been pushed to the walls and the tapestried rugs lifted, making the room appear rather cold. Professors Dumbledore and Snape stood apart from the rest, Harry noted, engaged in what appeared to be a hushed and intense exchange. Snape looked as he always did, greasy hair falling across his sallow features, dressed head to toe in unrelenting black.

Shacklebolt and Remus were gathered before the banked fire, and as Shacklebolt lifted his wand and muttered beneath his breath, Harry's eyes widened when whatever spell the auror had cast highlighted for a split second a dome of iridescent magic, which rippled like water before vanishing once more.

"Mr Potter" Harry turned his attention to the approaching figure of Professor McGonagall, who was brushing her hands together as though to shed them of dust. Her lined face was as serious as it ever was when she peered at him, making Harry feel as though he had already done something wrong.

"I presume that Professor Dumbledore has gone over all you need know about this…." For a moment she seemed to struggle for a fitting term, or more likely, Harry thought, was attempting to find an alternative to what she would like to call it.

"…attempt. I would however like to emphasise that you need not participate in today's proceedings, nor indeed, feel you must simply as arrangements have already been made. It would be a simple matter to reconvene a meeting and discuss the alternatives."

Harry nodded, to show his understanding, but at the Transfiguration Professor's sharply raised eyebrow, he rushed to add words.

"I know that, Professor. I want to do this. Really." He willed his earlier determination to show on his features but wasn't sure he had managed when he saw his strict teacher sigh. She seemed to consider something for a moment, her eyes unfocussed, before coming back to herself and softening, her gaze holding warmth that she rarely displayed.

"Mr Potter. _Harry_. I also worry that you are doing this to please your guardian. To gain his respect and approval?"

Harry felt his scar pull as he frowned deeply, indignation and anxiety warring within him.

"That's not it. Not at all Professor! I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do, not because Professor Dumbledore expects it of me, or, or that I want him to be…proud of me! Is that what you really think?" he ended plaintively, shocked at how upset the notion made him. His impassioned speech drew the eyes of Remus and Shacklebolt, but they made no move to join them.

Professor McGonagall brought him back to her gaze with a hand placed lightly on his upper arm. She looked satisfied, and there was a fondness in her eyes as she twitched her lips.

"My apologies, Harry, I did not intend to upset you so. I can see that you are driven by your own selfless motivations and not the other. I hope you see that I have only your best interests at heart and why I needed assurance. You are still a Gryffindor, Mr Potter, and last I checked I am still your Head of House after all." She finished, her eyes twinkling in a similar way to the Headmasters.

Harry relaxed his tense shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief, glad that she believed him and relieved in a way he didn't really understand. He nodded again, acknowledging her words, accepting her apology and even returning her smile a little. The various conversations beyond them were breaking up and Harry could see Dumbledore and Snape, the Headmaster's hand on the younger wizard's shoulder, making their way over to where Harry knew the temporary wards were. As he and his Head of House made to move to join them, Professor McGonagall's hushed voice accompanied his first steps.

"And you should know, Harry, that you already have his respect, his approval and his pride. You need not concern yourself on that front." She whispered, before striding ahead of him.

Harry swallowed the lump of emotion that had arisen at her kind words and avoided his guardian's gaze as he followed in his Professor's wake. He did not think on it for long though when his eyes met the unrelenting, fathomless black of his Potions Professor's hard gaze. The temptation to look away was strong, but he knew to do so would be admitting some of his nervousness and so he held it, standing a little straighter and clearing his face of all emotion. Professor Snape's lips curled a little before he abruptly turned away, removing his flowing black outer robe in sharp, economised movements.

"I think we are ready to begin. Harry…?" Professor Dumbledore lifted an arm and beckoned his charge closer, resting a heavy hand on his back when Harry followed his instruction. The rumble of the Headmaster's voice was a comfort when butterflies began to develop in Harry's stomach.

"Minerva, gentlemen, if you could take your places as discussed? Harry? You will join Professor Snape and Iwithin the wards, obviously. Everyone else will have specific roles of their own, namely to provide stability to the wards and assistance, externally, if required. Do you understand?" Dumbledore asked, looking at Harry quite seriously across the top of his half-moon shaped glasses. Harry nodded quickly, wiping his damp palms across his jeans.

"Any questions?" the Headmaster prodded gently, a thumb passing quickly across Harry's bony spine where his hand still rested.

Breathing deeply, feeling Dumbledore's magic, powerful and bright, pressing against his own, he shook his head in the negative, giving the man a brief half smile in reassurance. Remus caught his eye, smiling enough to crinkle his eyes and cocking his head to the side as he looked across at his young friend.

"Sometime_today,_perhaps…" came the drawling, octaves-deep rumble from a scowling Professor Snape, who was watching their interaction with ill-concealed impatience and repugnance. Despite his surly demeanour, Harry thought he appeared somewhat paler than his usual shades of moon bleached white, and the long fingered hand that gripped his wand at his side was flexed hard enough to show the whites of bones and fine tendons beneath the alabaster skin.

Without further ado, Harry stepped forward at the gentle push at his back and felt the heavy tingle of powerful magic sweep over him as he penetrated the dome like wards, Dumbledore and Snape behind him. When they were within, Harry was surprised that looking out from inside was vastly different, the room and people highly distorted by the constant rippling of magic, like viewing the bottom of the lake through the lapping water above.

He did not comment on it however as he watched Dumbledore, eyes closed in concentration, cast a wide arc with his wand, the results unseen but powerful if the wash of magic was anything to go by. Harry could feel the fine hairs on his arms stand on end. Snape, ignoring whatever his mentor was doing, was concentrating on unsnapping the tiny buttons which ran in a straight line from his cuff to just shy of his elbow. That achieved, he proceeded to roll both tunic and bright white shirt in precise folds until Harry caught sight of the ugly black tattoo on his forearm.

"Severus? Are you prepared?" Dumbledore enquired a moment later, his aged face showing his concern. Harry saw Snape straighten, and even without his voluminous robes he gave the impression of filling more space than he truly did. His obsidian gaze locked once more with the Headmasters and his voice when he spoke held resolution and challenge.

"Are you?" the younger wizard questioned boldly, his question carrying the impression of a previous conversation. They held each other's gaze for a tense moment before Dumbledore nodded, his bright white hair shifting with the unwavering gesture. With some sort of understanding reached, both wizards turned to Harry, who was uncomfortable with the sudden attention.

"Come here, my boy." Dumbledore invited; his wizened features kind and encouraging. When Harry reached his side, he gave one final bolstering wink.

"Wand out." The Headmaster instructed, ignoring Snape's gusty nasal sigh. Harry withdrew his holly wand from his sleeve and rolled it between his fingers nervously as he glanced between Dumbledore and Snape. Needing no instruction, Snape held his arm, palm up, away from his body, lowered somewhat so that Harry could actually see the mark clearly. And Harry could, in all its horrible, blackened glory. He couldn't help but stare, tracing the twisted body of the serpent from where it emerged from the gaping jaws of a fleshless skull. He had seen the ghostly apparition in the sky more times than he cared to recall, but nothing like this. This solid, tangible mark, applied by the Dark Lord himself was more vile and disturbing than any he had seen before.

"Whenever you are ready to begin, Harry." Dumbledore intoned, breaking the trancelike state he had slipped into. Harry twitched slightly, avoiding meeting Snape's eyes and instead lifted his wand to point, somewhat unsteadily, at the still, unmoving mark. He needed no snake of course, as long as the clear image of the one branded into Snape's arm was within his line of sight. He saw, from the corner of his eye, his guardian rolling his uniquely carved wand between his fingers and felt reassured by the Headmasters presence.

Taking a deep breath, he chanced a quick glance upwards to gauge the Potions Professor's readiness, and finding only the same dark, unreadable expression, he firmed his stance, consciously relaxed the grip he had on his wand and pushing out all other distractions, focused only on the image of the coiling reptile. His magic moved within him and left his wand with the usual rush as he breathed the Parseltongue equivalent of '_Abrogare Describite'_, the first of the three agreed upon spells.

He held his breath, looking from the unchanged arm before him to Snape's unchanged expression, eventually looking to his guardian when it became obvious that nothing had, or would, happen. Dumbledore simply nodded for him to continue, his countenance one of quiet intensity and unwavering attention.

Readjusting the grip on his wand, Harry looked back to the reason for this exercise and, with more determination, cast a second time, ordering the blackened serpent to release its hold. The last hissing vowel, English to Harry's ears, had barely left his lips when the need for a third attempt slipped from all their minds.

If asked later, Harry wasn't sure what he had become aware of first; whether the blackened mark on Snape's arm becoming animated, writhing in apparent agony; or the Potion's Master sharply indrawn breath and sudden lurch to his knees; or the stabbing, blinding agony ripping through his head, seeming to sear a burning path from his scar to the back of his skull, ricocheting to his eyes, nose and even throat as he tried to draw in a reedy, gasping breath.

Familiar magic filled the air around him, potent and crackling. He felt the sensation of it, padding him at all sides, cocooning him but not suffocating. The pressure in his brain was beyond bearable, roiling through him in ever increasing waves of pressure until, just seconds after casting his spell, a high, mocking laugh filled his consciousness, causing his ears to pop as though he had climbed to a high altitude. Cracking his watering eyes open, the blurry visage of Dumbledore, more a smear of white and blue against a wavering background, slowly came into focus. The Headmaster appeared to be casting furiously, his wand flashing through the air in sharp strokes. The black blur which signified a slumped Snape suddenly slid across the dark flagstones, repelled by the Headmaster's magic beyond the limits of the now pulsing wards.

More laughter, gleeful and anticipatory, echoed through Harry and he panicked when his neck craned and mouth opened to release the mad cackle. He tried to speak, to lift his hand, move his head – but it was as though he had lost control of all motor functions. The unrelenting pain now pulsed downwards, filling his neck and shoulders so that he felt as though his spine were being crushed in the claws of some snarling, vicious beast.

"_He is mine, Dumbledore. He always was..._" Harry's mouth moved, his vocal chords buzzed, but it was not his voice that emerged. He felt his facial muscles pull in the fake facsimile of a smirk and writhed within himself, panicked and sick and in agony. His eyes tracked the movements of the Headmaster as he stepped lightly to his right, his wand held by his side.

"_Was it worth it, old man? To sacrifice the child for the traitor?_" No sooner had the words fell from his tongue than he felt his arm lift and a hot surge of magic rip through him, channelled through his wand and aimed directly at the Headmaster. Harry could only watch, horrified then relieved, as the streak of brilliant red shattered across whatever shield his guardian had immediately erected. The potent spell, more powerful than any he had ever cast before left him feeling scorched and blistered, as though every capillary and blood vessel in his right arm had burst and split in the path of the magical current.

Harry, in the midst of his silent agony, could feel Voldemort's distain and anger at his inexperience and under developed magic. His arm slashed upwards again, magic burning a blazing path across his chest and down to his fingertips before a swirling, spiralling fiery jet cut across the limited space between himself and the Headmaster. Harry watched as Dumbledore slashed his own wand downwards, the unknown spell meeting Harry's with a deafening boom and brilliant flash of light. The wash of residual energy bathed Harry's exposed face and hands in a firestorm of pins and needles.

"_Remember_, Harry. It is your greatest weapon. Your greatest virtue."

Dumbledore's calm voice reached through the pain and exhaustion and panic, far into the smallest, darkest part of his mind where he had retreated. Like a marionette, his arm jerked under the power of another, powerful curses being formed with his own magic, dragged from him until he felt sure his very magical core would wither and collapse from the strain. A maniacal laugh shook his shoulders, full of dark amusement.

"Virtuous? Undoubtedly. Weapons?..." Dark, sartorial laughter rolled across Harry's tongue. "…A mere child whose magic hasn't reached maturity. What weapons do you imagine he may wield against me?"

Another curse lit the air around them and Harry could only watch as his guardian demonstrated his defensive skill, seeming to deflect the spell into the dome like wards, which shivered with the impact, before disappearing completely. A foreign growl tore through his throat when in the very next instant strong hands grasped his wrists from behind and effectively wrapped his own arms around himself. Sudden pressure behind his knees made them give out and Harry felt the Headmaster's bulk follow his slumping body to the ground before he was pulled back tightly to the wizard's chest through the unrelenting grip on his wrists.

His holly wand slipped from numb fingers as the fingers wrapped around his right wrist sharply pinched nerves. He could do little to stop the writhing in his body as Voldemort fought to release Harry from the Headmaster's surprisingly solid hold, nor could he stop his inner cry as the skin in his arms suddenly heated as though held over living flame. He could breathe again when the heat was chased away by a rushing iciness emanating from the point where Dumbledore held his arms securely at his sides. Magic surged across his skin, causing gooseflesh to rise; a sign of impending accidental magic in his experience.

"_Fight_, Harry. You have done so before…" came the Headmasters rumbling, somewhat breathless voice at his ear.

Exhausted, Harry desperately focused on bringing memories of those he loved and cared for to the forefront of his mind, as he had once done before. Expecting Ron, Hermione, his parents and Sirius, Harry was not prepared for more recent memories to appear instead.

Professor Dumbledore, healing his wounds and telling him he did not have to return to the Dursleys; Bringing him hot chocolate and listening to his troubles; Appearing in the dead of night to console him after nightmares; Holding him when he cried; Asking his forgiveness; Caring enough to speak to him when he made mistakes; Helping with his school work; Rescuing him time and again.

Becoming his guardian.

Harry was filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and desperate need to keep his guardian, this wizard who, with every gesture and overture, demonstrated his love, caring and need to protect Harry these past weeks. He let the warmth spread, chasing the coldness that had seeped into every pore and vessel in his body.

He bucked against Dumbledore's broad chest, his face pinched and sweaty with agony as he fought to rid himself of the Dark Lord's presence. He felt the same pressure building in his head as he had at the start and when his jaw stretched open to release a gasping yell, it was his own voice that emerged. His numb, prickling fingers weakly grasped at the Headmaster's robes and he turned his head to press his face against the softness of his guardian's beard.

Images of Voldemort's twisted, furious face flashed in Harry's mind and with a final, snarling yell of pain and defeat, the Dark Lord's presence within him vanished.

Harry had only time to acknowledge the pressure in his head had vanished too before he succumbed to the darkness blurring at the edges of his vision.

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Harry regained consciousness with the blurry but certain knowledge that it was not the first time he had done so. His confused mind flickered with fuzzy snapshots of muddled conversation, hands touching him, sharp spikes of unnatural light piercing his eyes and the sensation of horrible tasting potions being spelled down his throat. He felt too warm, like the time he had fallen asleep too close to the fire in the Gryffindor common room.

Thankfully, the air around him was crisp, fresh and carried the perfume of forest greens and morning dew. As he drew the scents inside, it reminded him briefly of times at the Dursleys when he had fallen asleep with the window open; at least as far as the bars would allow. Confusedly thinking himself there once more, Harry's breath hitched and a husky moan of despair climbed his dry throat to tickle against his lips.

As his wakefulness grew, so too did his awareness of how very, very unwell he felt. There was a dull, throbbing pain behind his sealed eyelids, a leaden heaviness in his achy limbs, a roiling acidic hole in his stomach and a particular heat and tightness in his right hand. He tried to curl his fingers inwards in an attempt to loosen the rigidity but found he was unable to do so. A soft groan of frustration rumbled in his throat, and he moved his head to seek the cold cotton of his pillowcase against his overwarm cheek.

A cool hand smoothed across his fevered brow, sweeping back his wilting fringe and allowing the chilled air access. Harry shifted awkwardly, agitatedly, and his protesting body gave enough of a jolt of reprimand to push him to full awareness. He cracked open slightly sticky eyelids and immediately closed them against the muted natural light beyond. His second attempt went better and despite blinking in a slow and sleepy manner, the blurriness around him began to take familiar shapes and shadows. Or as much as it usually did without the aid of his glasses.

The hand at his brow left and Harry blearily followed its retreat until he was looking at its owner, dressed in verdant green robes with a familiar crown of brilliant white hair and beard, Professor Dumbledore sat close enough to the bed Harry was recumbent on that his knees pressed against the off-white linens. Recognition brought a halt to his restless movements, a peace settling over him that threatened to easily pull him back into sleep.

Harry simply gazed sleepily at the Headmaster, watching the wizard watching him. His head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton wool, his thoughts disjointed and half-formed. Had he thought he was at the Dursleys? Was he? But why would the Headmaster be at his summer home? Vernon wouldn't stand for it, he knew. A frown pulled his eyebrows downwards, concern for his Professor taking root.

"You should pro'bly go, prof'ssr" he warned; his voice a slurring, dry whisper. He watched as Dumbledore leaned forward, his azure eyes patient though clearly concerned as he affixed his gaze on Harry's over-bright, half-lidded ones.

"Go, Harry?" Dumbledore enquired softly, and Harry sighed with comfort at the sound of the old man's voice. The Headmaster had a nice voice, Harry distractedly concluded. He never barked, or cursed; his words were never mean or cruel. He didn't hiss at him, or throw insults; and he never, ever screamed at him, even when he made the man angry. That was nice.

_Why was he so hot_? Harry wondered again. He used his left arm to push away the light blanket covering him, helped along with his right foot kicking weakly at it. His muscles protested the movements and he stilled without objection when his Professor reached across and folded the offending bedding towards the foot of the bed. That felt better.

"Am I miss'n class?" Harry suddenly wondered aloud, looking worriedly at the Headmaster, his previous question forgotten. He saw Dumbledore shake his head in the negative, a small smile playing around his mouth.

"No class today, Harry. You are exactly where you are supposed to be." Dumbledore reassured, patting his knee once.

"Tha's good." Harry agreed, shifting again. His right arm now throbbed in time with his heart beat but a glance down revealed little but the fact he was wearing off-white pyjamas that exactly matched the bedding. His eyelids fluttered with the effort and he fought the tempting pull of sleep again.

"M'really tired, Sir. Don't think m'gonna make class t'day…" Harry announced softly and solemnly "…don't feel so good." He finished with a slightly hitched breath, an unknown wretchedness sweeping over him.

Dumbledore leaned forward, and, careful of Harry's arm, spread his broad hand across Harry's pyjama clad chest.

"Then go to sleep, my boy. Close your eyes and rest. You needn't worry about class."

Harry's lips quivered with emotion and sinuses tingled with the dire prediction of unwanted tears. He swallowed hard.

"Pf'ssor" Harry whispered, a seldom heard frightened note in his voice. He felt the weight atop his chest lift and fall, lift and fall in a steady thump. His fever bright eyes closed of their own accord, and despite the discomfort and lethargy, he dragged his uninjured left hand across his own body to rest across the now still one, trapping it against his over-warm chest.

Professor Dumbledore's eyes, shining for different reasons, watched intently until every line of tension and fear melted away as Harry once more succumbed to his exhaustion.

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Harry awoke with a groan. He felt stiff and sore, as though he had overslept on a hard, lumpy mattress. Blinking open tired eyes, Harry could just make out the familiar topography of the Hogwarts Infirmary, squinting a little at the bright light spilling across the opposite beds. Trying to sit up proved a mistake; his first firm push against the mattress to right himself sending darting, lightening bolts of pain through the fingers in his right hand and straight up into his shoulder.

His eyes prickled with the pain and he carefully cradled his damaged limb against his chest as he pushed upwards with his feet. Finally leaning, breathless, against the headboard, Harry checked the night stand for his wand and glasses. Finding only the reflective glass of his spectacles, Harry pushed them awkwardly into place and pulled the covers atop him to his chin. The room was unusually chilly.

It was as he was trying to remember how he had ended up in the infirmaryagain that his mind kicked into gear and the memories of the dark mark removal flooded his consciousness. He might have believed there was a chance he had dreamed the entire event were it not for the pain and aches he could feel blossoming across his body. To say nothing of just how very tired he felt, more than he felt was warranted following an obvious sleep.

The arched doors of the infirmary opening distracted him and he watched as the Headmaster strode across the threshold, tall and thin and surprised, if the developing expression on the wizard's face was anything to go by.

"Harry! I did not expect you to be awake, my boy. How are you feeling?" Dumbledore enquired, nearing the bed. Harry thought he sounded relieved as well as surprised.

"I've been better, Sir. How are you? And Professor Snape? Did it work? What happened?" Harry asked in a rush, regaining his senses as well as his memories. Dumbledore folded himself into a chair Harry hadn't noticed earlier and held up a hand to halt Harry's continuous line of enquiries.

"Peace, Harry. One thing at a time, hmm?" the Headmaster advised gently, tilting his head back to seemingly study Harry through the glasses perched upon his nose. It was Harry's turn to blink in surprise when his guardian leaned forward, shook his wide, embroidered sleeve back and placed a warm, dry hand against his forehead. The gesture was so patently parental that Harry blushed slightly, dropping his eyes to study the bandage swathing his throbbing right hand. The hand retreated and Harry glanced upwards, the soft, pleased look in Dumbledore's face enough to hold his attention again.

"It would appear your fever has, at last, broken. May I?" Harry nodded when Dumbledore indicated his wand, and held still as the wizard cast unknown spells above him. Questions formed and reformed in his mind, one taking priority before another would quickly take its place.

"Sir, did Voldemort find out where we were? Is that why we're back at Hogwarts?" Harry asked somewhat urgently, huffing quietly with impatience when his guardian restowed his wand and pulled the folded blanket at Harry's feet up and over him. The Headmaster shuffled back to his seat and flattened his beard against his chest in a habitual motion.

"No, Harry. Voldemort, whilst achieving much in his short stay, did not discern the whereabouts of Castle McGonagall. It is safe, as is Professor McGonagall, Kinsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin."

Harry nodded, relieved. He pushed away the tiredness that had not yet loosened its hold.

"And Professor Snape? Is he…? I mean, did it work, Sir?"

Dumbledore interlinked his fingers, the silver rings adorning them glinting in the bright morning light.

"Professor Snape is presently recovering at his home in Cokeworth, alive and in full possession of all his limbs. The dark mark remains, though its functions, thanks to you, have been permanentlycast off. It remains only as a reminder of a young man's folly - and a grown man's regret."

Harry sighed in relief, slumping a little further into the flattened pillows at his back. His eyes travelled over his guardian, seeing little to indicate any harm had befallen the wizard under Harry's attack. Still….

"Are _you_…ok? I mean, I didn't, um, hurt you or anything?" Harry hedged, feeling both guilt and embarrassment. The Headmaster's expression hardened somewhat and Harry felt himself shrink a little, a coldness seeping into his hollow stomach. Seeing this, and probably much more, Dumbledore shook his head and leaned forward, the twinkle absent from his gaze.

"Firstly, it was not you, Harry, who attacked me. _It was Voldemort_. It is imperative you see the difference. Secondly, I can assure you I suffered no lasting physical effects from my impromptu duel with Tom, which, regrettably cannot be said for you, my boy. And lastly, whatever guilt and discomfort you are harbouring is vastly misplaced. Rather, it is I who rightly shoulder these burdens. I allowed you to participate in what transpired to be a dangerous, painful and harrowing event. And, once more, it is you who must bear the brunt of my misjudgement and ill-conceived plans. I do not deserve your forgiveness, yet I find myself asking for it once more."

Dumbledore looked as though the burdens he spoke of literally weighed down on him, his shoulders sagging with it. It pained Harry to witness the depths of his guardian's self- reproach, depths he too had explored quite thoroughly.

"Professor, I _wanted_ to help. I knew what might happen, I'm not….stupid. Or naïve…well, about this anyway. This wasn't like the Ministry. Or Ron and I flying Mr Wealsey's car, or, or drinking polyjuice to sneak into Slytherin…"

Harry blushed furiously at his inadvertent confession, looking down at his fingers as he worried stray threads on his bandaged hand. Which, incidentally, ached something awful he noted. If he had maintained eye contact, he would have seen fond amusement chase the shadows from the Headmaster's face.

"…anyway, what I mean is I didn't do this without thinking it through or without telling anyone. We talked about it, you were there and so were others. I might feel like a Hippogriff trod on me but no-one died, Snape is sorted, you're ok and so is Professor McGonagall's home. All in all I'd say we won this one, Sir." Harry finished tiredly, displacing his glasses as he rubbed his good arm across his heavy, itchy eyes.

His glasses were nimbly plucked from his face and he blinked blearily at his professor, frustrated with his body's apparent weakness. A dull headache played around his temples, his right side felt as though it had taken the worst of a fall from his broom and exhaustion rolled through him in waves. He reconsidered his description to Dumbledore – trodden on by a _herd_ of hippogriffs was more likely.

"Sit up a little, Harry." The Headmaster assisted, a hand on his back, and Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste when a glass containing a royal purple potion was held under it. Too tired to argue or question, Harry took the glass and, holding his breath, downed half the contents in one gulp. A shiver wracked his shoulders as the foulness coated his tongue. He turned his head away from what remained and swallowed convulsively, biting back the swell of nausea.

"And the rest, Harry. Come on now." Dumbledore encouraged, indicating the remaining potion.

Glaring miserably at the glass, Harry was momentarily tempted to spill the contents across the off white bedding, but seeing the futility and immaturity in that, instead threw the rest to the back of his throat and blindly held out the empty glass. _Uughhhh_.

"Scoot down." Was his next instruction, and Harry followed this one without complaint, merely grimacing as achy muscles protested. He breathed out a sigh of relief when at last he was more or less horizontal, and watched as a slightly blurry Headmaster busied himself with straightening his bedding. That achieved, the old man perched beside Harry, much as he had in his first year, and, like then, began to explain.

"You have been suffering the ill effects of a fever these past two days, Harry. A fever brought on by a sudden and dramatic drain in your magical energy. Though you will eventually recover, you will be feeling rather poorly as your body attempts to replenish that which you lost. Tom is not only a powerful wizard, but a well read and experienced one. He attempted to utilise the same means and experience in our duel as he would normally do, that is to say, while residing in his own adult body."

Harry listened quietly, nodding slightly when his Professor paused to show his attention.

"Whilst possessing you, Tom had access to the resources you normally have at your disposal. As you do not yet have his power and experience, his attack drew forth magical energy that whilst you possess, has yet to be developed. He employed curses that you have never attempted, Harry; ones which your body and magic are not yet developed enough to cope with. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded again, a mere shift against the soft pillow supporting his head. Whatever potion Dumbledore had given him had left him feeling woolly and detached, and whilst it had the benefit of pain relief, it was making concentration rather a challenge.

"The results were a rather severe episode of magical exhaustion. It is neither unheard of nor untreatable, but it can be uncomfortable and draining, as I am sure you need no reminder of at the moment, Harry. Immediately following the event, I removed you from Castle McGonagall and returned you here, where Madam Pomfrey made a temporary return from visiting her family to ascertain your condition. I have her instructions for your conditioned improvement and her assurances that you will be back to your normal self in due course."

Dumbledore studied his charge's heavy eyes, considering his next words.

"Your arm and wand hand have taken the brunt of the damage, as you've no doubt noticed. They will take time to heal and you must not delay that process by attempting to use them. Which means no magic. Not even the most basic spells or charms, Harry. _None_. Is that clear?"

Irritation flooded Harry, pulling him from the lull he had fallen into whilst listening to the steady rumble of his guardian. A part of him understood the reasoning of course but another part, the part pissed off at being back in the infirmary, of being bested by Voldemort yet again – that part growled in defiance. Well, he thought mulishly, it wasn't as though he could afford to be entirely defenceless. He silently decided that if and when the situation required it, he would disregard Dumbledore's advice. It was only sensible as far as Harry could see. Still, no need to start an argument – he was already exhausted and a fight would only make the matter worse.

"Yes, Sir. No magic." He agreed, perhaps a little too quickly, as the Headmaster stared at him a moment longer with his penetrating gaze, a gaze which Harry found he couldn't hold as he looked down at the wizard's wide embroidered sleeve. He heard the man sigh and followed his progress as the Headmaster fluidly rose.

"Sleep, Harry. Get some rest. By the time you wake you should be fine for some food and drink."

Harry only nodded and slid a little further under the blankets, Dumbledore's suggestion seemingly holding the power of a spell as he immediately felt his heavy eyelids begin their descent. He was asleep before the Headmaster reached the foot of his bed. Had he not been, he may have witnessed the older wizard click his fingers, and grinned at who appeared with a muted pop.

TBC. Next: During Harry's convalescence, he receives a letter, which, given the unlikely correspondent, could have far reaching consequences.


End file.
